Reality: The 44th Annual Hunger Games (SYOT)
by 4everlark
Summary: DISCONTINUED. A new law is in place allowing for Victors to travel freely between the Capitol and their home Districts. For five Games Victors, this announcement means that they have an opportunity to bond over their shared love of books and poetry. But things take a dark turn when, a month before the 44th Games, one of the members of the Literature Club is found dead… SYOT closed.
1. Prologue 1: PC

**Perch "P.C." Covey, age 25**  
District 4 Mentor and Victor of the 37th Hunger Games

* * *

 _One month before the Reapings of the 44th Games_

"Heeeyyy P.C.!"

I sigh, smiling as I turn around to greet the annoying girl hurrying towards me, her dyed light blue hair bouncing as she runs. She's totally oblivious to the surrounding Capitolites whispering excitedly about her, as well as the fact that I find all her energy to be exhausting. But I put up with her because she's Sayori Mizushima, Victor of the 36th Games.

It's kind of impossible to not like a girl who won back-to-back Hunger Games with you. Sayori is the same age as me, and even though she volunteered for her Games while I was Reaped, we're still friends simply because out of all the Victors in Four we're the closest in age. After my victory gave District 4 its first consecutive victors, Sayori has been my guide to the life of a Victor. Not that I really needed one - I was content to spend my time programming computers, a hobby that led to my nickname - but I've found that it's nice having Sayori around.

"Hi Sayori," I say. "Are you on your way to your club?"

"Yeah!" she exclaims, bounding towards me with a bounce despite being loaded with a large amount of books and a large backpack. "Wanna walk together?"

"Sure, why not?" I answer with a shrug. "My Capitol place is on the way anyways. Lemme help you with those books."

"Oh, thank you P.C.!" Sayori chirps as she plops the books into my arms. I stagger a little under their weight in surprise, not expecting her to give me all her books, but I can't help but smile as my friend starts smiles sheepishly at me, realizing that she probably shouldn't have loaded everything onto me.

"Why are you carrying these books, anyways?" I ask as we continue walking, the noise of the city in the background. "Who uses books in the Capitol?"

"P.C., have you decided on a club to join yet?" Sayori asks.

"You didn't answer my question," I say with a chuckle. "And I told you already, I'm not interested in joining any clubs. I'm just in the Capitol because I like my place there better than my house in Four."

After the 40th Games, President Salvato announced that from then on, Victors of the Hunger Games would be allowed to travel freely between the Capitol and their home Districts. This announcement was met with joy from the Victors, because it would allow them to connect better with other Games Victors and explore the Capitol more. The non-Victor family and friends of Games Victors would still have to live in the Victor's home District, and the Victor would still have to mentor tributes and attend every Reaping in their District. However, everyone was happy that their hard work in the Games was at least rewarded in a small way.

Shortly after the announcement, Cordelia Kim, the legendary Victor of the First Games, suggested that the Victors form special interest clubs that met regularly in the Capitol. Participating in clubs, Cordelia said, would help Victors cope with the Games, expand their horizons, and connect with other Victors of similar interests. Most of the Victors embraced the club concept enthusiastically, but I've always been a bit of a lone wolf. I prefer being alone in my house in the Victors' Village with my trusty laptop, coding dumb shit. I thought a little about joining the Tech Club, but it's all District 3 Victors and I'm pretty sure they're way out of my league.

Sayori frowns, stopping in her tracks and almost causing me to bump into her. She looks at me sadly.

"P.C., please don't tell me that you plan on spending the rest of your life by yourself on the computer," she says, chuckling. "I think that if you expanded your horizons you'd be a lot happier, and your happiness is very important to me, y'know!"

"Aww, you're so sweet," I say, giving Sayori and genuine smile. "Alright, I'll look at a few clubs if it makes you happy."

"Yaaay!" Sayori exclaims, managing to jump up and down despite her heavy backpack. "Ooh, do you think you can maybe come to my club?"

"There's no way I'm going to join your Literature Club," I groan, thinking about all the times Sayori rattled off to me about her activities as the newly formed club's Vice President. It's not that I'm trying to discourage Sayori - it's just that my interest in literature is non-existent.

"Aww, no fair, P.C.!" Sayori whines, pouting. "I told everyone last meeting that I'd bring a new member, and Natsuki baked cupcakes and everything!"

I sigh, rolling my eyes and smiling. Even though Sayori seems like an airhead, she won her Games for a reason, and I'll admit I'm impressed by her cunning.

"Fine… I'll stop by to taste Natsuki's baking," I say.

The baking skills of Natsuki Barkley, last year's Victor, are legendary. Everyone was surprised when the little girl from Seven won the 43rd Games. Sure, she was seventeen, but she was hot-tempered, very small, and didn't seem to have many skills other than baking. But I don't think anyone has forgotten how Natsuki baked cookies and offered one of them to Python Renault during her Interview.

"Yay! Let's go!" Sayori exclaims, bouncing up and down before scurrying forward. I sigh, smile, and roll my eyes, following her through the city.

 _Today marks the day I sold my soul for a cupcake,_ I think as we walk.

I follow Sayori into an apartment complex. My friend scans her fingerprint, and the sliding doors open to let us through. We ride the elevator to the top floor, where Sayori strides right over to one of the apartments and flings open the unlocked door with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

"Everyone, the new club member is here!" Sayori yells, full of energy as always as she drops her bag on the floor.

"I just wanted a - oh, hello, Yuri," I say, dipping my head respectfully at the elderly Victor from Twelve. Yuri Coulson is her District's only Victor, winning the Second Games at age eighteen. At age sixty, with white hair and a slightly hunched back, she's also currently the oldest Victor in Panem. Yuri is known for being shy, withdrawn, and haunted thanks to being unable to bring any tributes home over the years, despite her best efforts. I'm surprised to see her here, but I'm happy that she's starting to reach out.

"Hello, Perch," Yuri says quietly, dipping her head back. "It's a pleasure meeting you."

"I usually go by P.C., but if you want to call me Perch go ahead," I say, a little flattered by the oldest Victor's respect towards me.

"Sayori always says nice things about you," Yuri says, smiling. It's hard getting used to the Twelve Victor's soft voice after spending so much time around Sayori, but I'm sure I'll adjust quickly.

"Seriously, Sayori?" the second Victor in the room asks, seeming annoyed. I immediately recognize the small girl as Natsuki Barkley - her black hair is shorter than when I last saw her, but otherwise she's the same as always. Natsuki is the youngest in the room at eighteen, but she looks assured.

"You brought a guy?" Natsuki says. "Now we can't talk about periods!"

My face flushes, but the third Victor in the room cuts in. I recognize her face and her dark brown hair worn in its signature high ponytail. She's from District 1, or is it 2? I can't put a finger on her name.

"P.C.!" the middle-aged woman exclaims, smiling broadly at me. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Uh-" my voice catches in my throat. "Sorry, who are you? I know you're from One, but…"

"I'm Monika Mendoza of District 2," the woman says, "Victor of the 27th Games! Remember? The outer space one? I won it at eighteen, if that's any help."

"Ohh," I say, embarrassed. I guess I haven't paid much attention to the Victors of One and Two, despite living in a pseudo-Career District myself. Maybe it's because there are a lot of them, but now that Monika mentions a space Arena I recall that she was the tribute with the highest Training Score - a ten - and got through her Games with the help of her beauty and intelligence as well. She definitely looks different from how she was during her Games, but I decide not to mention it.

"Monika's the President!" Sayori exclaims, clapping the older Victor on the back. Monika smiles at Sayori warmly.

"Um, it's nice to meet all of you," I say awkwardly. "I mean, I knew about you three, but, well, you know what I mean."

"Does this mean that you'll be joining the Literature Club?" Natsuki asks. She's smiling, which makes me smile back because despite her comment earlier she seems to want me to join.

"Uhm…" I say. To be honest, I was dreading this question. I've never been into literature, and being the only guy in a club full of women feels pretty awkward.

"I know we're pretty small, but I hope to really make this place special," Monika says.

"You don't have to join if you really don't want to," Yuri says gently, "but we'd love to have a new member, Perch."

"Come on, P.C.!" Sayori chirps. "Why don't you at least give it a try? Who knows? You might discover something new."

I look between the four female Victors. They're so different, and yet so interested in the same subject, expressing their passions in different ways. I realize that there's no way I can turn them down.

"Alright," I say. "I'll kind of sort of participate in this one meeting and decide from there."

"Yaaay!" Sayori exclaims, jumping up and down.

"I promise we do more than talk about periods," Natsuki says with a cheeky smile.

"I'm glad you're here, Perch," Yuri murmurs, smiling.

"Let's get started, then!" Monika chirps, clapping her hands together.

As the meeting gets started, I feel more and more comfortable. Monika, despite being a full Career Victor, is great at making everyone feel at home. Natsuki's cupcakes are delicious, Yuri's observations are insightful, and Sayori is full of energy as always.

Still, I have a feeling that there's more to this club than meets the eye. It is a little odd how the club consists of a middle-aged Victor from Two, an elderly Victor from Twelve, a young Victor from Seven, and two friends from Four. This isn't exactly a group that I expected to form.

But it's clear just from the first meeting that everyone has a passion for literature of all kinds, from poetry to short stories. I'm probably just overthinking things.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi everyone, I'm a new writer on this site and I'm pleased to get started. In case you can't tell from my profile, I'm 4everlark, but you may call me Lark! This is my first story on FFN, and it's an SYOT!**

 **I don't have that many rules, but this SYOT is mostly first-come, first-served. If you submit a tribute and I'm willing to write them, chances are I'll put them into their slot. You may submit up to THREE tributes, but if you do so, at least one must be a Bloodbath. Submit tributes by the Google Form on my profile only! I'm doing this to make things easier for those of you with new accounts who can't PM. Open tribute slots are on my profile.**

 **Also, I'm pretty sure some of you have noticed that this prologue seems familiar, and that was one-hundred percent intentional. The subplot of this SYOT is essentially the plot of an existing work, and bonus points go to anyone who can guess what it is (it's probably not that hard haha). Although, if you get the reference, please don't give spoilers to those who don't, unless they ask for spoilers of course. The title of this SYOT is also a reference to the fact that the subplot of this story is based on an existing work.**

 **I know I'm new to this site, but I hope you'll consider submitting! I have three prologues left, and that seems like a lot but trust me, there's a reason for that. After the last prologue, hopefully I'll have a full tribute list and we can move right into the Reapings.**

 **Thank you for your interest in this story, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	2. Prologue 2: Sayori

**A/N: Trigger warning for graphic violence in the beginning of this chapter, so please be warned.**

* * *

 **Sayori Mizushima, age 25**  
District 4 Mentor and Victor of the 36th Hunger Games

* * *

 _One month before the Reapings of the 44th Games_

I leap out from behind the dead tree and plunge my dagger into my District Partner's throat. There's no time to waste. Sure, my rope snare caught Finn by surprise and left him dangling by one foot from his dead tree, but I had to act quickly before Finn could find a way to get himself free.

 _BOOM._

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tria Eyre announces, "the Victor of the Thirty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games, Sayori Mizushima of District 4!"

Tears fall down my face as I stare at Finn Aldridge's dead corpse, my dagger sticking out of the gaping wound in his neck. Fresh red blood gushes out of Finn's throat and drips onto the ground, and his eyes are wide open with shock. He was eighteen years old, but he was still too young to die. And unlike me, he didn't even want to be in the Arena.

I look away from Finn's hanging body and glance towards the sky, which is as cloudy and gray as ever. I'm so sick of this damp, cold, misty, foggy, and generally depressing Arena. At least I'll be able to see the sunshine again now that I've won.

 _Holy crap, I did it. I'm the Victor._

But even though I won, I still feel empty inside, which isn't helped by the fact that I don't hear a hovercraft.

"Hey!" I yell, wiping my tears away quickly. I need to look happy to have won, or people will feel worried. I wave my arms in the air.

"I won!" I exclaim to the air, forcing a smile. "I can go home now and see the sun again, right?"

"Sayori."

 _That's Finn's voice._

I whip around, my heart rate quickening. When I see what I see, I almost faint.

Finn's bloody corpse has changed. It's moving, but his eyes are nothing but black pits, and his mouth is making talking motions even though no words are coming out.

"What-" I gasp.

"Sayori, look at you," Finn's corpse says as it sways from where it hangs from its branch. "You're so selfish. You thought volunteering for the Games was a selfless thing to do, but look at you. You've killed. You killed me, even though I was from home. You killed Auto on Day 4, even though he was twelve years old. You killed Willow in the Bloodbath, even though you had no reason to. What were you thinking, Sayori? Don't you want everyone to be happy?"

"Stop!" I scream, covering my ears. "Stop it!" I try to turn and run, but one of Finn's arms stretches, grabbing me on the shoulder and forcing me to turn and face him. I try to wriggle free, but he has me in an iron grip.

"I'm sorry!" I yell, looking everywhere. Why hasn't the hovercraft arrived to free me of this nightmare? I don't remember this being a part of the Games.

"Finn, I'm sorry I killed you," I say to the distorted eyes of my District Partner's corpse. I'm not even trying to fight my tears now. "I'm sorry I killed Auto. I'm sorry I killed Willow. I'm sorry I just made everyone feel worse. I'm sorry I volunteered for the Games. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"Take this," Finn says suddenly, ripping the dagger out of his throat and handing it to me. "You're a monster, Sayori. A selfish monster who hurts people." When I stare unresponsively at the dagger, Finn points its handle at me. "Take this. You know what to do to make everyone happy."

My fingers shake as I take the dagger from Finn. I scream as I stab the dagger into his animated corpse, again and again. I close my eyes as blood sprays all over me.

A cannon fires as Finn's hanging corpse stops moving, and his eyes and mouth return to normal.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tria Eyre announces, "the Victor of the Thirty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games, Sayori Mizushima of District 4!"

"Just end it already!" I scream at no one in particular, my eyes avoiding the mutilated corpse in front of me. "I thought I won the first time Finn's cannon fired. Is this some kind of a sick joke?"

A horrible, distorted laugh emanates from Finn's corpse. "No, Sayori!" the thing screams, its eyes turning into dark pits again. " _You're_ the sick joke."

"STOP!" I scream, plunging the dagger three times into Finn's corpse, twice into the pits where his eyes should be and once into his weirdly moving mouth. Blood sprays from where I stabbed the corpse, and, as if to taunt me, a cannon fires again.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tria Eyre announces, "the Victor of the Thirty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games, Sayori Mizushima of District 4!"

This time, I'm running as soon as the cannon fires. I don't want to be around to see what new horror awaits me as I linger near Finn's corpse… or whatever that thing is.

"You knew what you had to do with that dagger I gave you, why didn't you do it?" Finn's voice sounds, but I don't want to know where it's coming from. I weave through the dark, dead trees, trying to get as far away from Finn as possible, and suddenly the ground gives way beneath my feet, and everything goes pitch-black, and I'm falling, falling, falling-

Sunlight glows through my blinds. It's morning.

My eyes stay closed as I think about staying in bed. What did I dream about last night? I had a nightmare, that was for sure. I've been having more nightmares recently, which is strange because it wasn't like something in particular happened to remind me of my Games, which were almost ten years ago. Maybe Monika knows something about nightmares. She's always very knowledgeable. Yuri might be a good person to talk to too, because she's been a Games Victor for so many years. I wonder if P.C. has as many nightmares as I do, considering that his Games were right after mine. Either way, I guess I can talk to anyone about my nightmares aside from Natsuki. I don't want the youngest Victor to feel sad, knowing that she might suffer from nightmares even years after her Games ended. But then again, I don't want anyone to feel sad thanks to me.

I decide not to tell anyone in the Literature Club about my nightmare last night for the time being.

The Literature Club…

Crap! We were going to have a meeting today! My eyes flutter open, and I smile at the sight of sunlight streaming through my window. I'm glad I'm not in the Arena anymore.

I get dressed quickly, hoping that I won't be late. At yesterday's meeting, during which I think everyone had a good time, Monika suggested that everyone write poems and share them with each other today. The way our club works is that we meet for three consecutive days starting from the first Monday of every month, and then meet again the next month. That way, everyone has time to do other things, such as spend some time in their home Districts. Monika and I came up with the Literature Club schedule together, and I think it works very well. I hope that P.C. will show up to the meeting today with a poem. It was definitely a short notice for him, but I know that he's the type to keep his word.

As I'm about to head to the kitchen to eat breakfast, I suddenly realize that I never wrote a poem to share today. How could I forget such an important thing? I grab my tablet and draft out a poem, putting down into words whatever comes to me. I like impromptu poems like the one I'm writing now. Even though the other members of the Literature Club have different styles than mine, I think that's what makes us so unique. Personally, I love reading all sorts of literature because it lets me see other perspectives in the world.

I want breakfast.

Satisfied with my poem, I place my tablet in my bag and head to the kitchen in my Capitol apartment to get some cereal. On the way, I check the time. Thank goodness - I'm not late as I feared I would be. In fact, I have plenty of time to eat a relaxing meal and enjoy the sunshine streaming through my full window.

I hum to myself as I prepare my meal, watching the cityscape below me. The sun is beautiful and bright, and the Capitol is as colorful as ever.

I'm definitely looking forward to what kinds of poems everyone has written for today.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, here's our second prologue chapter! What did you think of Sayori? Please let me know what you think of this chapter, this story, and my writing in general. Loved it? Tell me! Hated it? Tell me also, but in a civilized way haha. I'm trying to get this story off the ground, and feedback is a great way for that to happen!**

 **Most of the tribute slots are still open, with only three tributes submitted so far. Please keep those submissions coming! I'd love for you to participate in this story. I hope to have a full tribute list by the time I post the final prologue, which will definitely be by the end of July, but the sooner I have all the tributes the better. I'll write as fast as I can, at my own pace, and if I don't have a full tribute list by the time I post the fourth and final prologue that's okay! I'll just start writing the full Districts.**

 **Thanks for reading, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	3. Prologue 3: Natsuki

**A/N: Trigger warning for mentions of abuse and suicide. Neither are graphic or intense, but please be warned.**

 **Well, I'm back. Enjoy the third prologue, or not. Just kidding, I hope you enjoy my writing. Anyways, more notes are at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

 **Natsuki Barkley, age 18**  
District 7 Mentor and Victor of the 43rd Hunger Games

* * *

 _One month before the Reapings of the 44th Games_

 _Natsuki, for the last time, where are you?_

It's a text from my dad.

 _Don't tell me you're in the Capitol again._

Of course I'm in the Capitol. It's the only way for me to hang onto my sanity.

 _You know I need you here in Seven._

 _Answer me, Natsuki._

 _I'll bake snickerdoodles for you if you come home._

 _You'd have to be heartless to let your old man be alone._

This last message causes a knot to form in my throat. I'm not heartless. Or at least I hope I'm not. I may push people away with my prickly personality, and I may have killed three people in the Arena, and I may have not been as welcoming to P.C. as I could've been…

I wipe away a tear.

I'm about to text back when I remember the last time I went home to District 7. Papa used that trick on me - bribing me with his baking and guilt-tripping me into going along with his wishes - only to treat me the way he's always treated me the moment I stepped into his house in the Victors' Village. Technically it's my house, but I can't call it home because to me home is as far away from my father as possible.

I am many things, but one thing I am not is weak. I'm too strong to go back.

Just when I think he's finally done, my phone buzzes again.

 _Natsuki, I'm serious, please come back. You may be a Victor but I am still your father._

I stare at the string of texts from Papa before deleting all of them and shoving my phone into the front pocket of my backpack. I sigh in annoyance. I can't let him win, not when I'm a Victor. But I've found out the hard way that my father isn't going to stop just because I won last year's Hunger Games.

It isn't fair, the way I still have to put up with his crap even after going through hell in the Arena. I thought I'd be free of him once I won the Games, but my father insisted on staying with me in the Victors' Village of Seven and making things worse during the times I was forced to go to Seven from the Capitol. I thought I'd maybe be temporarily be free of my father by blocking his number from my phone, but he always finds a way to contact me and I don't want to look suspicious to my friends by changing phones too often.

The Capitol, especially the Literature Club, has been my savior for the past year or so. Thanks to Papa, the Literature Club has been the closest thing I've ever had to a friend group. I'm so glad I'm a Victor. Otherwise, I'd be stuck in Seven with Papa for who knows how long… I don't want to think about it.

Today is the third and last Literature Club meeting of the month, and I hope to make the most of it. I've worked on presenting my poem orally for today's meeting, even though no one really liked it. Sure, Sayori and P.C. said it was great, but those two Four Victors were probably just being nice. It's pretty disheartening to know that the meaning of my poem, hidden behind its simple facade, flew over everyone's heads. But that doesn't mean I'm going to change my writing style, which I've worked on for a long time. I'll just have to convince everyone harder to appreciate simple poetry, that's all.

I pack my notebooks, one of which contains my poem, into my pink backpack before heading out into the front room of my Capitol apartment for breakfast. It still feels great, being able to eat to my heart's content after years of not getting enough to eat. Papa was rich, but he was Papa, so growing up I was always smaller than most people, even those who had to take tesserae. But that's in the past, and I have enough to eat now, which is all that matters.

I finish my breakfast of muffins and milk quickly before grabbing my backpack and heading out the front door of my apartment. I lock the door behind me, take the elevator down to the first floor, and step outside into the warm Spring day.

I stretch and make my way to Monika's apartment, where the Literature Club meetings are held. A few Capitolites wave at me as I pass them by, and I greet them, happy to be appreciated. Taking a subway train, I soon reach Monika's neighborhood, which is surprisingly average. It's interesting how the District 2 Victor opts for a simple lifestyle - her Capitol apartment is only slightly larger than mine - but she's told me that she started the Literature Club because she wanted something special out of a more intimate club than the larger ones. Maybe that's why she doesn't put on airs.

I arrive at Monika's apartment complex and invite myself in, as usual. I spot Yuri waiting for the elevator and I smile at her in greeting.

"How's your reading going?" I ask as the elevator arrives and we enter.

"I'm just getting to the best part," the Twelve Victor answers, her eyes lighting up. "The protagonist of my novel has started to realize that his life is an elaborate lie, and it's fascinating to see his reactions as everything he knows crumbles around him."

I chuckle and roll my eyes. Yuri's obsession with horror is something I'll never understand.

"Maybe reading horror all the time isn't the best idea for you, Yuri," I say honestly. "I can't pick up anything dark now that I'm a Victor."

Yuri smiles sadly and shakes her head. "Maybe the genre doesn't work for you, Natsuki," she says in her characteristic quiet voice, "but I've been a Victor for a long time and reading psychological thrillers is my way of coping with everything."

"I can't imagine that helping, but you do you," I say, shrugging. The elderly Victor nods.

Yuri and I are silent as we reach Monika's floor and knock on her door. The District 2 Victor invites us in, and the three of us make small talk as we sit down in Monika's living room to wait for Sayori and P.C. When ten minutes pass and there's still no sign of the District 4 Victors, I speak up.

"Usually Sayori isn't _this_ late," I grumble, glancing around at Monika and Yuri.

"Perhaps Perch does not want to come to this club anymore, but I can't imagine Sayori missing a club meeting," Yuri says worriedly.

"I was just going to ask you two if you've heard from P.C. and Sayori," Monika murmurs, glancing at the clock. "P.C. was here before you two, but he ran off."

"To where?" I ask. "I mean, it's not surprising that he'd bail on us, but I would expect him to be with Sayori."

"He said that he was going to get her," Monika answers, "but I have no idea where Sayori is. I called her but she didn't answer."

"That's odd," I say. "Usually when Sayori's late she at least answers her phone."

"Yeah, it _is_ weird," Monika says. "Should I call her again?"

"Sure," I say, but Yuri shakes her head.

"Let's wait for ten more minutes, and if the Four Victors don't show up by then we'll call Sayori," Yuri suggests. "We… usually don't call her before club meetings. It'd be awkward if we did."

"Alright," I say, shrugging, and Monika nods.

The three of us sit in silence for a while. Monika starts writing in her notebook, and I pull out my manga books to read. After a few minutes of reading, I look up and realize that Yuri is staring into space and looking pale.

"Hey Yuri, you alright?" I ask, putting my book down. "You look a little white."

"I… don't know," the Twelve Victor says quietly. "It's just that I feel that something awful is going to happen…"

"You'll be fine, Yuri," Monika says reassuringly, putting her notebook down and smiling at Yuri. "Maybe it's just the fact that Sayori isn't here."

"Yeah… maybe that's the reason why I'm so anxious right now," Yuri murmurs, not convinced.

Yuri pulls out her novel, and the three of us continue our activities in silence. A few minutes later, Monika's screen switches on.

"Attention, this is required viewing for everyone in the Capitol," a voice announces from the screen. My eyes widen as I drop my book and stare at the screen in front of me, Monika and Yuri doing the same. The screen is red, with the Panem logo in black in its center.

"This is breaking news," a newscaster says with a serious look on her face. "My name is Jacquelyn Eyre, and I'm reporting live from Sunrise Avenue." As the reporter speaks, a headline appears at the bottom of the screen, and my heart drops into my stomach.

SAYORI MIZUSHIMA FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT

* * *

 **A/N: Whoo, so that happened, and we're getting into the good stuff now! I hope you enjoyed the third prologue chapter of this story. What did you think of Natsuki, and what do you think caused Sayori's death? Please let me know what you think of this chapter and this story!**

 **I'm sorry for disappearing for a week and a half, but if I'm honest, most of it was because I was disheartened by the lack of feedback this story has been getting. Two chapters in, and I've received just four out of twenty-four required tribute submissions, and a grand total of zero reviews. :/ Now, I'm not saying that I'll stop writing just because no one is reading - I do write for myself, after all - but I can't exactly have an SYOT when no one is giving me any feedback whatsoever about my writing.**

 **So please, whether you've been reading for a while or just clicked on this story, leave a review and submit a tribute or three! I know I'm brand new to this site, but if you give me a chance I promise I won't disappoint. You know what, since I'm really strapped for reviews I'll let you guys guess the references present in this story. It's not like the work the subplot is based on will affect who wins the Games.**

 **The fourth and final prologue will be posted by the end of July at the latest, and then we can get into the Reapings! I most likely won't have a full tribute list by then, but I do at least have full Districts, so I can start by writing those.**

 **Thanks for reading, and may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	4. Prologue 4: Yuri

**A/N: Trigger warning for mentions of suicide and self-harm. Both topics get pretty intense this time around, so please skip this prologue if you're sensitive. I hope I didn't screw up my portrayal of these issues, so please let me know if I did.**

 **I know I'm a little late, but at least I managed to post this by the end of July like I said I would. This chapter is a direct continuation of where we left off last chapter. Also, I'd like to point out that the last chapter (Prologue 3) takes place one day after Prologue 2, which takes place one day after Prologue 1, in case there's any confusion. Please enjoy the fourth and final prologue of this story!**

* * *

 **Yuri Coulson, age 60**  
District 12 Mentor and Victor of the 2nd Hunger Games

* * *

 _One month before the Reapings of the 44th Games_

"That doesn't make sense," Natsuki says loudly as mandatory viewing ends and Monika's screen shuts off. "Why would she kill herself? She always seemed so cheerful."

"N-natsuki, please show some respect," I murmur, resting elbows on my thighs and burying my face in my hands. Terrible thoughts and images of Sayori's hanging corpse flash and race through my head as I replay what the newscaster said in my mind: Sayori Mizushima, my young, silly, happy friend, has committed suicide. I'm still in a daze, refusing to believe what my eyes and ears showed me, as Natsuki gives a sharp retort. I cringe a little at her loudness, but I realize that this yelling is probably the latest Victor's way of coping with horrors.

"It's real, Natsuki," Monika says, her voice strained. "The Capitol wouldn't lie about something like this. Sayori's dead and she won't come back." I look up to see the Literature Club President yelling as she buries her head in her hands. "I don't get why, though!"

"That's what I was saying!" Natsuki yells, tears forming in her eyes. "She seemed to be doing okay. She had us, and she had P.C.-" Natsuki suddenly stops. "It wasn't P.C., wasn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Monika asks.

"Ugh, this is awful, but why do I have the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't a suicide at all?" Natsuki asks, frowning.

"P.C. wouldn't murder his friend and frame it as a suicide," I blurt out, unable to keep my racing thoughts inside of me any longer. My eyes widen in shame as I look down. "I-I'm sorry! I don't know where that idea came from, you guys know that I have all sorts of weird thoughts, oh man please don't think I don't care about Sayori because I do."

"Your thoughts aren't weird, Yuri," Monika says reassuringly. "I think that's what Natsuki was about to say anyways."

"Exactly," Natsuki says loudly. "I really, really, _really_ hope it's not P.C., but the fact that he discovered Sayori's body, isn't here right now, and joined the club just a few days before Sayori killed herself seems awfully suspicious to me." She crosses her arms. "Ugh, I knew that bringing a boy into the club was a bad idea."

"I didn't mean to suggest that P.C. killed Sayori!" I say quickly, my gaze darting between Natsuki and Monika. "I meant to say the opposite, in fact… ugh, this is what happens when you're like me and you say the wrong things when you speak before thinking…"

"Why are you defending P.C., Yuri?" Natsuki asks. "You barely know him." Her eyes widen. "N-not that I'm accusing him of killing Sayori! Oh man, why did I have to drag P.C. into this?"

"Maybe you guys have a point in that someone murdered Sayori and framed it as suicide," Monika says thoughtfully, "but I honestly don't think it was P.C. He's too nice…"

"We don't know anything," I murmur, looking down in despair. "Maybe there's more to…" I trail off as I collect my thoughts.

"More to?" Natsuki asks.

"Hold on, I'm thinking," I say, closing my eyes, but that brings back nasty images so I open them again. "Maybe there's more to P.C. than we know, and more to Sayori too. Maybe P.C. isn't as nice as we think, and maybe…" I take a deep breath. "Maybe Sayori isn't - wasn't - as cheerful on the inside as we think either. But I still don't think she'd go as far as suicide…" I shake my head. "I really don't want to assume the worst in P.C."

"Yeah, me neither," Natsuki mutters, slumping down on the couch. "He may have added some unnecessary testosterone to the club, but he doesn't strike me as the type to just murder a Victor his age from his District and frame it as suicide."

"Maybe it really was suicide," I say sadly, "and if that is the case I wish I was there for Sayori when I could've been. Oh, what if it was something I said that sounded innocent at the time but actually pushed her over the edge?"

"I'm sure you're overthinking things, Yuri," Monika says comfortingly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glance at the Two Victor's sad but reassuring eyes and sigh.

"Maybe I'm overthinking everything," I murmur, placing a hand on my head. "Why is it that after my friend died the first thing I thought about was that maybe her friend murdered her?" I shake my head. "I should be grieving over Sayori's death, not jumping to pin the blame on someone. What's wrong with me?"

"Hey, maybe we all need a break," Monika says with a sad smile. She turns to Natsuki, and then to me before continuing, "They're going to investigate Sayori's death, right? They have to, 'cause Sayori is - er, was - a Victor. So maybe we should all go home, rest, and keep an eye out on the news." She sighs. "Too bad this is the last meeting of the month… Yuri, Natsuki, do you want me to walk you home?"

"I'll be fine," Natsuki says loudly, standing up. "I'm definitely really shaken up by this, but maybe I just need some time to process everything."

"Yuri?" Monika asks gently, noticing that I haven't responded to her offer.

"Oh, sorry, I must've spaced out again," I say hastily as I stand up as well. "I'll be okay walking home on my own. I think we all need some time to be alone with our thoughts."

"You sure you'll be fine?" Natsuki asks, looking at me skeptically.

"I-" I start, wanting to say more. But I take a deep breath.

"Don't worry about me," I say with a small smile. "But take care of yourself, Natsuki. You too, Monika."

"Will do," Monika says, standing up and smiling back. Natsuki nods as Monika sees us to the door.

I hurry home as fast as I can, trying to focus on my movements and not on the millions of thoughts racing through my head. The truth is, I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts, even though I'm used to it by this point. But Natsuki and Monika are clearly struggling too, so it would be wrong of me to share my burdens with them.

I try not to think too much, or too negatively. Unfortunately, I have no such luck, and the closer I get to home the more thoughts crowd my head. By the time I lock my apartment door behind me, I'm breathing heavily, and not just from my movements.

 _It has to be your fault, Yuri,_ I think, not paying attention to what I'm doing as I make my way to the display case that stores my collection of artisan knives. _You're the only one she knows who thinks too much and says the worst things._

I open the case and grab the first knife I see, a blue pocket knife. My mind is still racing and I still feel a little dizzy as I roll up my sweater sleeve.

I almost don't see, or at least don't care about, the cuts on my arm I've given myself over the years. But an image of a smiling Sayori flashes through my head, and all of a sudden I see them, some of them fresher than others.

 _I gave myself a cut just two days ago…_

I blink back tears as I take deep breaths, forcing my racing heart to calm down. I stow the pocket knife where I took it from and sigh, stepping back from the display case and giving a pained smile.

I thought I'd be able to stop cutting myself once I joined the Literature Club. I thought the Literature Club could be a good distraction from everything - my feelings of self-hatred and my self-harm - but the club, despite its wonderful members and activities, didn't stop me from cutting myself.

 _You need to talk about it,_ I think, but I just laugh out loud. Me, talk about my problems? I'm supposed to be the wise old Victor who is content keeping to herself.

At least the memory of Sayori was enough to stop me from hurting myself, if only for today. Tomorrow may be a whole new beast, but I can think about that later.

I decide to take a shower.

* * *

 **A/N: So there you have it, the fourth and final prologue of this story. What did you think of Yuri, and now that the Literature Club have discussed Sayori's death do you think it was a suicide or something else? Please let me know what you think of this chapter!**

 **Next up, we have our first Reapings! I don't have a full tribute list yet, but I have full Districts, so I'll start by writing those. I'll begin the Reapings with District Two, so see you all in two weeks at the latest with the D2 Reapings!**

 **Also, there are still plenty of open slots left on the tribute list, so please do consider submitting, whether you have a tribute or you don't. Remember, you can submit up to three tributes, but if you do so at least one must be a Bloodbath. But anyways, here's the current tribute list! D1F, D3F, D4F, D5F, D5M, D6F, D6M, D7M, D8M, and D10F are open.**

 **District 1 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 1 Male: Glitz Mayfair, age 18, submitted by CelticGames4**

 **District 2 Female: Sequoia Clearwater, age 18, submitted by theflowercrowns**  
 **District 2 Male: Jason "Jae" Trynx, age 18, submitted by epictomguy**

 **District 3 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 3 Male: Andir Marx, age 18, submitted by IciclePower33**

 **District 4 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 4 Male: Mako Bailey, age 17, submitted by AkaneOfFan (Guest)**

 **District 5 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 5 Male: OPEN**

 **District 6 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 6 Male: OPEN**

 **District 7 Female: Rattana Penner, age 16, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**  
 **District 7 Male: OPEN**

 **District 8 Female: Clarissa Seldon, age 14, submitted by uniqueUsername1024**  
 **District 8 Male: OPEN**

 **District 9 Female: Meghan Curdews, age 17, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**  
 **District 9 Male: Ohio Lequi, age 17, submitted by cornellfan**

 **District 10 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 10 Male: Vancon Weiler, age 16, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**

 **District 11 Female: Abilene Ackerman, age 17, submitted by curiousclove**  
 **District 11 Male: Winstead Dale, age 17, submitted by curiousclove**

 **District 12 Female: Isadora Fink, age 17, submitted by Author-Hime**  
 **District 12 Male: Mero Coutel, age 14, submitted by cornellfan**

 **See you all in District 2!**


	5. District 2 Reaping

**A/N: This chapter contains strong language throughout, so please be aware of this if you're sensitive.**

 **I know I said I'd update this on Saturday, but I got done with it early so I'm updating right now. That being said, I do have a question for you all: Would you rather I update this story every other Saturday as originally intended (or some other fixed schedule), or would you rather I just get out updates as I finish them? Please let me know!**

 **But anyways, I'm excited to start the Reapings! I still have some open tribute slots so please do consider sending tributes whether or not you've submitted already. Remember, each submitter may submit up to three tributes, but if you do so at least one must be a Bloodbath. The current tribute list is at the bottom of this chapter, but without further ado, please enjoy District Two!**

* * *

 **Sequoia Clearwater, age 18**  
District 2 Female

"Sequoia!"

The voice belongs to Monika Mendoza, one of the head Trainers at the Academy. I groan as I stab my sword through the training dummy and turn around to glare at the woman, who waves at me as she makes her way to me. I don't know what business the mentor has with me, but considering Monika's stupid smile it can't be good.

God, can't that woman leave me alone for once? She's always so bubbly and invested in everything, even in times of hardship. Apparently her friend, a Victor from Four, committed suicide a month ago so why the hell is she still acting so irritatingly peppy?

"Do you even know how to frown?" I ask Monika, withdrawing my sword and holding it in front of me in a menacing way. "What are you on, happy drugs?"

"Hey, I just wanted to see how you were doing, with the Reaping being in a few hours," Monika says, frowning for just a little bit before going right back to her irritating smile.

"Well it's none of your business," I growl, stabbing the sword through the dummy again. "You aren't even my mentor, Archer is, and he's leaving me alone like I want."

"I thought you might appreciate some company because Archer's with Jae," Monika says, still smiling.

"Yeah, you can hang out with Mr. Cool Guy too," I snap, grabbing my sword again and focusing on my training. My District Partner is the most irritating loser in the world, and I don't need another reminder of how everyone likes him. "Stop talking to me Monika, I've got a Games to win."

"Alright," the Victor relents. I'm not looking at her face, but her voice is still annoyingly upbeat. "I'll just tell Anna and Addison that you don't want to be bothered."

"Where are they?" I ask, putting my sword down. "If they're throwing knives I wanna be there too."

"Hey Sequoia!" another voice calls, and this one actually makes me smile because it belongs to Anna, the older Hadley twin. I look up to see Anna hurrying over to me as Addison grabs a rack of knives at the knife throwing station on the other side of the room.

"Addison and I just got here," Anna explains, thankfully ignoring Monika. "Wanna have a knife throwing party?"

"Heck yeah," I say with a smirk, following Anna to the knives. I don't know what Monika does after that, but I hope she leaves me alone.

Anna, Addison, and I practice our knife throwing for a while, with me being the best because I'm the chosen volunteer. Just when I think I've had a peaceful session, I hear annoying dudebro voices behind me.

"Oh look, it's the girl tribute with those weird twins. Don't you two do anything away from each other?"

I whip around with a knife still in my hand and shoot a death glare at the source of the voice, which I know belongs to one of Jae's friends. Ugh, Jae, what a dumb name.

"You wanna repeat that little comment?" I ask, my voice dropping dangerously.

"Whoa girl, chill," another one of the guys says, holding up his hands. "You'll never win the Hunger Games with an attitude like that."

"Nobody insults my friends and gets away with it," I growl, taking a step towards the boys. "Now beat it or I'll shove this knife handle so far up your ass you'll be shitting bricks till District 12 gets another Victor."

"Come on, guys," a third boy says, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let's leave her. There's no point working her up."

The four boys look at each other before looking at Anna, Addison, and I. Then they turn and walk away, one of the boys muttering something that sounds vaguely like "bitch".

" _You're_ a bitch," I yell at the retreating boys before turning angrily back to the target. I take a deep breath before letting my knife fly, imagining the bullseye as the heart of a person who gets in the way of me protecting my friends.

The knife sticks solidly into its target, and I smile.

* * *

 **Jason "Jae" Trynx, age 18**  
District 2 Male

"Ace Trynx, District 2 Female," I murmur to myself as I bench-press the weights. Several girls are admiring me from the other side of the room, and I smile at them before going back to my training. One of the girls whispers something, but I don't hear what it is as I continue my exercise.

"Victor of the 29th Hunger Games at age eighteen," I murmur as I release the weights, feeling proud of my mother for conquering the Games.

"Digit Keyes, District 3 Female," I continue reciting as I lift the weights again. As I release the weights, I say, "Victor of the 30th Hunger Games at age eighteen."

I continue reciting the Victors of the Hunger Games as I bench-press, testing my memory and knowledge while exercising my muscles. There are forty-three Victors which equals to forty-three reps, but that has never stopped me.

"Grey Achilles, District 2 Male," I say with a grimace. Not only am I getting winded, it's also that Grey won the Games my brother missed out on, and after that happened I was pushed harder than ever. Not that I mind, though, because I like the tough training.

"Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games at age seventeen," I growl as I release the weights. I still can't believe that a seventeen-year-old beat out my then-eighteen-year-old brother.

This last one is the hardest.

"Natsuki Barkley, District 7 Female," I hiss, lifting the weights and ignoring the pain in my muscles. "Victor of the 43rd Hunger Games at age seventeen, but that should've been my cousin, if only that dick from One didn't backstab her, dammit."

I release the weights for the last time, a little harder than normal. I huff, using a nearby towel to wipe off my sweat, which gets the girls to whisper louder among each other. I smile at them wearily, but I'm not really thinking about girls, not when I'm wishing that Agrippa was the one to win last year's Games.

Whatever. I know that I have what it takes to not be like her and die.

I get up, squirt some water into my mouth, and approach the javelins on the other side of the gym. As I pick one up and get ready to throw it, I turn to the group of girls watching me.

"How are things?" I ask with a smile.

"W-well, Sequoia was at the knives and being bitchy as usual," one of the girls, Sparta, says, her face visibly red. "Shit, um, I meant to say, I'm doing good and you look great Jae!"

"Well, I guess not everyone is friendly," I say with a good-natured laugh as I hurl the javelin towards its target. It sticks in the bullseye, and I smile.

"We'll talk later, okay?" I say, picking up another javelin. "I'd love to hang out but I'm going into the Games today and I should train."

"No problem, go ahead and do your thing," Sparta says with a smile, visibly relaxing. "And, uh, we weren't watching or anything, we'll just be going now."

"Are you going to Paris's party?" I ask.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Sparta answers as her friends nod.

"Well, he invited me over earlier but I told him that I wanted to train for another half an hour," I say, tossing the javelin between my hands. "I'll be there in a bit, though. I don't want to end up a party pooper like Sequoia."

"Hey, you probably don't want to get on her bad side in the Arena," Sparta's friend, Ashley, cautions.

"But everyone's on her bad side," I say, half-joking. This gets the girls to laugh, and I laugh along with them before throwing the javelin at the target. It doesn't hit the bullseye, but I'm pretty close, which is good enough considering I wasn't even that focused.

"Anyways, have fun," I say with a smile. "I'm going to train for about…" I glance at the clock. "Fifteen more minutes before I'm packing up and heading over to Paris's."

"Awesome," Ashley and Sparta say together, which gets everyone to laugh again. I say goodbye to the girls as I throw one last javelin before heading over to where I know the swords are.

I pass Sequoia at the knife throwing station on the way there, but I pay her no mind as I grab a sword and start training with it. After a few minutes, my watch beeps, and I put the sword down with a smile.

That's enough training for today. The Reaping is in just a few hours, so I might as well have some fun with my friends before I go home to get ready for my big moment.

I take a quick shower at the Academy before throwing on a casual outfit and make my way to my friend Paris's house. It doesn't take long to get there, but when I reach it the place is oddly quiet. That's strange. Normally I'd expect the yard to be full of people, or at least for music to be blasting from inside the house.

I ring the doorbell, and the door seems to open on its own. What greets me makes me grin.

"Congratulations!"

A lot of my friends, and a lot of people who I know but don't really consider my friends yet, are crowded in Paris's front room and throwing confetti into the air. A large cake decorated with the words "To Jae Trynx, Future Victor" sits in the center.

"Hey, thanks guys!" I say loudly as I rush into the room and close the door behind me. "I promise I'll see you all again, but for now, let's just turn it up!"

* * *

 **Lavish "Lav" Golden, age 57**  
District 2 Escort

"How are you feeling, Monika?" I ask the female Victor sitting next to me on the stage. "Are you okay with spending a few weeks at the Capitol?"

Monika Mendoza sighs, giving me a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm fine," she says, nodding at me. "I've already told you, Sayori's death has only made me mentor more. I need a distraction, you see?"

"I get you," I say, giving a small smile back. "I just wanted to see how you were feeling."

"Hey," the other mentor says from the other side of Monika, his eyes betraying his joking mood. "That's my job."

I gasp in feigned surprise and dramatically place a hand on my chest, deciding to play along. "Well I didn't know that I could invest in Monika's well-being as well, Archer," I say to the Victor of the 32nd Games. I turn to Monika in concern. "Um. Are jokes not appropriate in this situation?"

"You know, Lav, Archer never quite grew out of his admiration of me," Monika says with a mischievous smile. "And don't worry. Today's a day to celebrate our volunteers."

"That's not true!" Archer Smith exclaims, though he's blushing slightly. "The first part, I mean. Not the second part. I'm seeing people."

"And when was your last date, Archie?" Monika asks, her mischievous expression not fading.

"Please don't call me that," Archer says quickly, "and alright, I know that four months is a long time to go without a date, but at least I'm trying."

"Hey, no pressure to find a partner or anything," Monika says, her gaze softening. "Don't force something to happen when you're not feeling it."

"Exactly," Archer says, relaxing and smiling.

I smile to myself as the Main Square of District 2 continues to fill with excited people and the Mentors next to me continue talking among themselves. Monika came out publicly as aromantic and asexual the year after Archer won his Games, and even though the younger Victor was visibly disappointed he has done a pretty good job in respecting Monika and being a good friend to her. Monika's my favorite Victor, considering that she was the first Victor I escorted for after getting transferred to District Two. She may get lost sometimes among the other female Victors of District 2, but that's to people who don't know what they're missing. Monika is one of the head Trainers at the District Two Career Academy, and I like working with her and the other Two Victors so much that the younger escorts can pry my position from my cold, dead hands.

The square quiets down as Mayor Stivers makes his way to the podium and begins his excited speech about the Hunger Games. It's the same every year, but I have to give credit to the guy for making the District excited for the Games nonetheless. By the time he's introducing this year's mentors, the crowd's excitement has bubbled over into happy murmurs.

"And now, presenting, the woman you all know and love, our wonderful escort, the forever loyal and lovely Lav Golden!"

I give a big smile as I get up from my seat, my bones cracking a little as I walk briskly to the microphone. The crowd's excitement has spilled over, and everyone's cheering loudly for me. I'm just happy that District 2 loves me as much as I love them. It took a few years in the beginning to adjust my style to suit the less extravagant District, but I've grown to really love the simple long dresses and matching winged helmets I wear every year to the Reaping.

This year, my outfit is black with green accents. I stop at the microphone and smile broadly at the roaring District.

"District 2!" I exclaim, addressing the crowd as it quiets down. "I'm so excited to be here once again, and I'm sure you share my excitement for the upcoming season. Thank you for being there for me as I've been there for you. Thank you!"

The crowd cheers again, and I wait for the noise to die down before continuing, "But now it's time to find out which brave young man and which valiant young woman will be representing our lovely District for the 44th Annual Hunger Games. Let's start with the boys, shall we?" I walk over to the boys' Reaping Bowl and pick out a name from the very top, knowing that it won't matter. I return to the microphone and exclaim, "Mason Augustus!"

"I volunteer as tribute!" a confident and excited voice calls immediately, and the crowd bursts into cheers of excitement and support as the volunteer steps proudly out of the section of eighteen-year-old boys. Some even call his name, "Jae!" as the tall, muscular volunteer walks briskly to the stage with his head held high and proud. Jae smiles and waves at the audience, even winking once as he mounts the steps of the stage.

"Someone's popular!" I exclaim with a grin as the volunteer walks up to me with a smile on his face. People start cheering again, and I patiently wait for the noise to die down before asking the young man, "What's your name?"

"My name is Jason Trynx," the volunteer says confidently, snatching the microphone from my hands, "and I'm going to be your next Victor!"

The crowd bursts into cheers and applause as I smile at Jason, taking the microphone back from him and shaking his hand while giving him encouraging words. I leave the male tribute standing at his spot as I walk back to the center of the stage, beaming.

"Well, I know you're all excited to meet our female tribute so let's get to it!" I exclaim as I place the microphone back into its stand, walk over to the female Reaping Bowl, and pull out a name. I return to the center of the stage, unfold the slip of paper, and call out, "Carlie Melton!"

"I volunteer as tribute!" a girl yells right as I finish reading the Reaped tribute's name. The voice belongs to a tall blonde girl who looks just as confident and excited as Jae, but as the volunteer makes her way to the stage from the eighteen-year-old section I notice a look of cold, fierce determination in her eyes. The cheers and applause are noticeably quieter than the response given to Jason, but the girl pays this fact no mind as she confidently climbs onto the stage.

"Another volunteer!" I exclaim excitedly, looking up at the tribute as she comes to a stop next to me. "What's your name?"

"My name is Sequoia Clearwater," the girl says coolly as I hold the microphone up to her face. "Carlie, Mom, Anna, Addison, I promise I'll do everything I can to come home to you. This isn't the last you'll see of me."

I smile and wait for the cheers to quiet down before saying, "Oh, do you know the Reaped tribute?"

"It's none of your business, old lady," Sequoia says coldly as I hold the microphone to her again. She shoves the microphone back to me, and I pull back in surprise. The crowd is unusually silent, which means that the District probably expected something like this. Still, that hurt a little.

"Alright District Two!" I exclaim once I'm in the center of the stage again, trying to keep the crowd energized after what Sequoia said. "Let's give a huge round of applause for your tributes of the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Jason Trynx and Sequoia Clearwater!"

* * *

 **Sequoia Clearwater, age 18**  
District 2 Female

I pace around the Goodbye Room, stretching out my arms as I do so. Anna and Addison just left after wishing me luck and giving me advice to kill every tribute who stands in my way. They also told me that they can't wait to see me again as a Victor. I'm happy that they believe in me, and I know that I'm going to come home to them, but I'm expecting more visitors.

Sure enough, the door opens and my mother walks in with a smile. Before I can sit down and receiver her properly, she has me in a tight embrace.

"I love you too, Mom," I say as I hug her back. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll come home so I can keep protecting you."

"You're so sweet, Sequoia, dear," Mom says, breaking the hug and kissing me on the cheek. "I'm sure you have what it takes to win the Games."

"Of course," I say, smiling. "You'd better enjoy my sweet side because this is the last you'll see of it until I come home."

"Yeah, about that," Mom says, her expression hardening. "Maybe you should show more of that sweet side in the Arena. It's good for sponsors, after all."

I laugh. "I know that, Mom," I say, grinning, "And I'll keep that in mind. But chances are I won't even need sponsors. I'll just kill everyone in my path, and you know I won't let anything stand in the way of my Victory."

"Ruthlessness can be a great angle too," my mom comments, smiling again. "Just be yourself, Sequoia, and I'll see you soon." She sits down onto the couch. "How's Carlie?"

"I think she wanted to visit last," I answer, sitting next to Mom. "Can you believe that she was actually Reaped? I'm so glad that I'm the chosen volunteer."

"I'm sure that you'll come home," Mom says confidently. "Do you have the ring with you?"

"What ring?" I ask.

"The engagement ring for Carlie," Mom answers with a broad smile.

"Mom!" I exclaim, my face reddening. "How did you know?"

"I've known for a while that you two were really something," Mom says, squeezing my hand. "So did you bring the ring as a token? You're going to propose to Carlie when you come home, right?"

"Yes, but I didn't bring the ring," I say slowly. Upon seeing Mom's disappointed expression, I add, "If I brought the ring and people found out about it I'm going to seem like a sissy."

"Maybe you can mention your relationship with Carlie during the Interviews, at least," Mom says thoughtfully.

"Hell no," I say loudly, crossing my arms. "That'll ruin my whole angle."

"Fair enough," Mom says with a smile, raising her arms playfully. "Sarcastic and sadistic works too."

"Yeah, I can't wait to kill all those wimps who think they can get in the way of me coming home to you guys," I say with a smirk.

"That's the spirit, Sequoia," Mom says encouragingly. She stands up and gives me one last hug. "Well, I think I'll be going so you can spend some time with Carlie. I'll see you soon, my soon-to-be Victor."

"Yeah, I'll see you soon too," I say with a smile as Mom waves to me one last time and leaves the room.

Just as the door closes, it opens again, and my girlfriend rushes into the room, tackling me into the sofa and giving me a passionate kiss.

We make out wildly for a few minutes, and part of me is wondering if we're going to have sex right here when Carlie breaks free of my embrace and smiles at me.

"I can't wait for you to win," she says, getting off me and sitting on the sofa. "Being your girlfriend is already amazing, but being the girlfriend of Sequoia Clearwater, Victor of the 44th Games? Wild."

"I won't let you down," I say fervently, pressing my forehead into Carlie's. "I'm going to come home and protect you, and always be there for you."

"It's so crazy that I was Reaped," Carlie says, smiling. "Can you imagine if we lived in Five or somewhere stupid like that? I'd actually be fearing for one of our lives."

"But we don't," I answer, grinning, "and you don't have to worry. I'm going to come home to you."

"Take out Jae for me, okay babe?" Carlie asks, a mischievous expression on her face. "That guy has got his head so far up his ass I don't know how he even functions."

"Of course," I say smoothly, "and I'll take out everyone else who's in my way as well. Just you wait, I'll be a Victor in no time."

Carlie and I continue chatting, touching, and kissing until a Peacekeeper opens the door and tells us that time is almost up in a somewhat annoyed tone. My girlfriend and I just laugh at his discomfort and make out right in front of him, which gets him to say that time is up far more quickly than he should. We smile, not really wanting or having to argue with him, as Carlie disentangles herself from me and wishes me luck one last time before skipping out the door.

I let myself feel giddy for a few more moments before steeling myself and reminding myself that I'll have to face Jae, Lav, Archie, and Monika soon. The smile is wiped off my face and replaced with my usual cold stare. Ugh, everyone's going to be fawning over that arrogant asshole and just being annoying in general.

Whatever, I don't need anyone's help to win the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Jason "Jae" Trynx, age 18**  
District 2 Male

It takes a while for all my friends to find their way out the door, but eventually, after a lot of final goodbyes, I'm left alone. I'm not alone for long, however, because soon the door to the Goodbye Room opens again and my family walks in.

"You'd better win, Jason," my mother says immediately, fixing me with the cold stare I'm used to by this point. "I fully expected Octavian to follow in my footsteps, but he let me down so it's up to you to be a Victor like me."

My brother stands at the corner of the room, scowling because he's reminded of how he narrowly missed out on volunteering for the 42nd Games. I nod, giving a weak smile.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so pushy, Ace," my father says as he sits on the couch next to me and smiles at me. "How are you feeling, Jae?"

"Hey Dad," I say, grinning. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, work's rough, but I want to send off my future Victor," Dad says, putting an arm around me. "Just don't push yourself too hard, okay Jae? You don't want to burn out before the Games even begin."

"Bullshit, Jason is far too strong to burn out," Mom says proudly, her gaze not softening. "I fully expect him to win these Games, considering the strength he has."

"I won't let you down," I say sincerely, straightening my back and meeting my mother's gaze. "I'm going to kick off a generation of Trynx Victors."

Octavian scoffs from his corner of the room, and I smile at him.

"Hey," I say to my brother when I realize that he hasn't stopped scowling since getting in here. "No need to be salty. You'll be a great Victor's brother."

"I'd rather be a Victor, thanks," my older brother huffs, crossing his arms. "Anyways. You'd better not be like Agrippa."

"Too soon, Octavian," I say, my smile disappearing at the mention of my cousin. "But I know that unlike her, I won't die."

"You'd better not die," Mom says seriously. "And don't you dare show that softness you just showed us in the Arena."

"I won't," I reply with equal seriousness, knowing that now is not the time to joke. "I promise that I'm going to come home a Victor."

"Good," Mom says, turning to leave. "Come along now, AJ, we'll be seeing Jason soon."

Dad looks like he's about to say something, but he nods and stands up, leaving the room with the rest of my family. When the door closes behind them, I think about how I'm going to win the Games with my popularity and skill.

Jae Trynx, Victor of the 44th Annual Hunger Games. I can see it now.

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to _theflowercrowns_ for submitting Sequoia, our District 2 Female, and thank you to _epictomguy_ for submitting Jae, our District 2 Male. What do you think of Sequoia, Jae, and Lav? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I gave a roughly equal word count to each character, and in this case my word count for Sequoia, Jae, and Lav was a baseline of 1500 words each with a 200-word wiggle room for each character. Hopefully the escort didn't outshine the tributes, but I don't think that will be a problem because the escorts will only get POVs in the Reaping chapters, and the tributes will continue to get POVs throughout the Games.**

 **In other news, this SYOT is still OPEN! Currently there are four open tribute slots: D3F, D6M, D7M, and D10F. As a reminder, you may send up to three tributes, but if you do so at least one must be a Bloodbath. Please do consider sending more tributes to this story, whether you have submitted or not.**

 **Here is the current tribute list:**

 **District 1 Female: Morgan Chatelaine, age 18, submitted by krasnymak**  
 **District 1 Male: Glitz Mayfair, age 18, submitted by CelticGames4**

 **District 2 Female: Sequoia Clearwater, age 18, submitted by theflowercrowns**  
 **District 2 Male: Jason "Jae" Trynx, age 18, submitted by epictomguy**

 **District 3 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 3 Male: Andir Marx, age 18, submitted by IciclePower33**

 **District 4 Female: Catalina Asbury, age 18, submitted by Smiley (Guest)**  
 **District 4 Male: Mako Bailey, age 17, submitted by AkaneOfFan (Guest)**

 **District 5 Female: Tatum Ridley, age 18, submitted by tracelynn**  
 **District 5 Male: Gage Wilder, age 18, submitted by IciclePower33**

 **District 6 Female: reserved for hgwriter1**  
 **District 6 Male: OPEN**

 **District 7 Female: Rattana Penner, age 16, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**  
 **District 7 Male: OPEN**

 **District 8 Female: Clarissa Seldon, age 14, submitted by uniqueUsername1024**  
 **District 8 Male: Soy Nylsen, age 13, submitted by cornellfan**

 **District 9 Female: Meghan Curdews, age 17, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**  
 **District 9 Male: Ohio Lequi, age 17, submitted by cornellfan**

 **District 10 Female: OPEN**  
 **District 10 Male: Vancon Weiler, age 16, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**

 **District 11 Female: Abilene Ackerman, age 17, submitted by curiousclove**  
 **District 11 Male: Winstead Dale, age 17, submitted by curiousclove**

 **District 12 Female: Isadora Fink, age 17, submitted by Author-Hime**  
 **District 12 Male: Mero Coutel, age 14, submitted by cornellfan**

 **See you all by Saturday, August 25th at the lates** t **in District 9!**


	6. District 9 Reaping

**A/N: I know I updated at a random time again, but I've decided on an update schedule that I'm going to try my best to stick to from now on! More info can be found at the bottom of this chapter. Without further ado, please enjoy District 9!**

* * *

 **Kauri Balestra, age 18  
** District 9 Female

What I did was not wrong.

Veronica had it coming to her. It was Sameer's fault that he died. They betrayed my trust by sleeping with each other, my girlfriend with my _brother_. I loved them and I thought I could trust them. I trusted not only them but also the good intentions of most people in the world, but then Veronica and Sameer completely shattered all my trust.

I may have killed them, but they only have themselves to blame.

 _It's not your fault, Kauri,_ I think as I stare at the ceiling of my dark prison cell.

Then why am I still having nightmares about it?

I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down my racing heart as I fully awaken. In my dream, everything happened again. I came home from work late to find the love of my life cheating on me with my brother, and all I saw was red. I screamed. She screamed. He screamed. We all screamed. We got into a big fight and Veronica ran into my knife. She ran into my knife ten times. The next thing I knew Sameer was dead as well.

Then my dream deviated from reality, because in my dream, everything felt _wrong_. It felt wrong because I stepped out of the house and everyone was trying to hurt me, throwing stones at me and calling me a horrible murderer. Mother was glaring at me with hatred in her eyes, which wasn't new, but Mom, who in real life is understanding and sees my side of the story, was with the mob as well.

In my nightmare, Mom called me a terrible person and a horrible murderer who deserves to rot in jail and go to hell for killing her son.

 _That wasn't real,_ I remind myself. _Mom betraying me was just a part of the dream. So was me feeling regret._

I may have nightmares in which I feel regret over killing Veronica and Sameer, but those aren't real. In real life, I don't regret what I did. Not one bit. Sometimes everything feels wrong because Mom and Mother refuse to see me, and I did make my mothers lose both their children.

 _But it wasn't my fault. My ex and brother only have themselves to blame._

"Hey Kauri, you up?"

It's Velma from the cell to the left of mine. My cell block consists of a few female murderers, all in their own cells, but at least the conditions of the prison I'm in aren't the worst. We can talk to each other through the barriers, and some days we're even allowed in the prison courtyard to train service dogs. I really do love puppies, mostly because they don't judge me for what I did.

Dogs are definitely better than people, one of which I have to deal with right now.

"It's none of your business, Velma," I snap, angry that someone is bothering to talk to me on my last Reaping Day.

"She's definitely up, otherwise why else would she be all bitchy?" Roxie snarks from the cell to the right.

"It's Reaping Day, cut Kauri some slack," Nickie, the oldest of the cell block, says in her calm voice.

"I don't need anyone to cut me slack, thank you very much," I huff as I turn around in my bunk and face the wall. "I've been done with people for ages."

"You and me both, kid," Nickie says sympathetically, but she doesn't press further.

Thankfully, everyone shuts up as the door to the prison ward rattles open and a warden comes in to toss us our daily stale bread. I can't believe they don't bother to treat us a bit nicer on Reaping Day. I mean, even the poorest citizens of Nine have something special on this dreary day, but I suppose that since we're criminals we don't even get to go into the courtyard to stretch our legs.

At least I'll be able to see the sun when they march us out to the Reaping. I've seen criminals at previous Reapings, dressed in prison outfits and looking like they're done with the world. I never thought I'd be among them one day, but here I am.

You can't help it if the people you thought you could trust betray you.

* * *

 **Ohio Lequi, age 17  
** District 9 Male

I hate Reaping Day so much.

Annoyingly enough, sometimes I still feel sad about my mother and three sisters dying in the arson attack on my home. But that was seven years ago, so usually I'm able to just push away the grief and focus on my work in the fields.

Today, however, is different. Every year on this day it's so much easier to feel negative emotions, and I hate it.

I drive the plow through the dirt, trying to focus on my work rather than my bad feelings as I get the grain field I'm working in ready for planting. Since Nine is a major food supplier, people working in the District's grain industry usually continue working on Reaping Days. Usually doing hard physical labor in the fields dispels any negative emotions I feel, but it's much harder today. Still, I make sure to do my best work.

The bells signaling break time ring, and I step away from the plow, wiping sweat off my face. I walk towards the edge of the fields, drinking water and saying hello to fellow workers as I make my way to my favorite tree. It's not that big, just a lone cottonwood that someone planted a long time ago among the fields for a bit of shade. Still, its branches are pretty good for climbing, and its trunk is a decent knife throwing target.

I grab my knife off my belt and throw it at the tree trunk. The knife gets a good stick in the bark, and I smile. I then climb up the tree. It's gotten slightly more difficult as I've gotten older, but my favorite tree can still support my weight. I reach my favorite limb and sit on it, leaning against the trunk and relaxing in the shade.

I think about work as I cool down. I technically don't have to go to work since I'm the Mayor's son, but I really want to do something useful besides going to school so I'm happy to do my part to help out in the District industry. Besides, the hard manual labor involved in fieldwork helps me chase away sadness and grief, the two things I hate more than anything else.

"Hey Ohio, what's up?"

I snap out of my thoughts and look down to see Toukley Eduards waving at me. I smile and wave back.

"At least work is helping me not feel sad," I say. I realize how awkward this sounds and quickly add, "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About what?" Toukley asks, and I realize that I may have made things worse.

"Nothing," I say quickly as I make my way down the tree. "Well, I'm going back to work."

"Talk to you later, then," Toukley says, and he waves at me before turning away. I wave back at him and climb down, grabbing my knife from the tree trunk before heading back to the plow.

I try not to think about how I've grown distant from most people over the years. I used to consider Toukley a friend, but it was because of him that I started drinking underage around two years ago. I've stopped thanks to work, but up until today I still can't help but feel awkward around Toukley, who reminds me of bad times because he used to pretty much be my drinking buddy. I've also drifted away from my other best friend, a nice girl named Faye Reynolds. She's helped me through hardships, but she doesn't live very close to me and thanks to the both of us spending more time in our jobs we haven't really talked for a while.

Well, at least I don't exactly need close friends to get my current job done, so I continue my plow work until the bell signaling the end of the shift rings. That's when I'm reminded of all the negative emotions I've been trying to avoid by working all this time.

I sigh. No matter how much I work to distract myself, that doesn't change the fact that the Reaping is in a few hours.

My sadness doesn't make sense, though. I'm the son of the Mayor, and I've never had to take any tesserae, so my chances of getting Reaped are very slim. And why am I still feeling grief for Mom, Nevada, Missouri, and Dakota when they died seven whole years ago?

 _Stop feeling sad, Ohio,_ I chide myself as I make my way home. _Sadness will only get in the way of things._

I imagine picking up the concept of sadness and flinging it away, and I smile. The thought does make me feel better, but Reaping Day still hangs over my head.

 _Well, I just need to not get Reaped,_ I think. _Then I can continue living my life._

* * *

 **Beaumont Swainson, age 65  
** District 9 Escort

I sigh as I sit on one of the two folding chairs set up on the makeshift stage in the Main Square of District 9. I lean back, slightly uncomfortable about the heat from the intense sun as I watch the Square fill up with people. Nine is a large District in terms of area, so there are several places around the District where the Reapings take place. I always draw the names in the Main Square, the closest place Nine has to a city, but most of the tributes I've gotten over the years have come from the more rural areas of the District.

Not a single tribute has come home a Victor.

I allow myself a little scowl. I've been the escort for District 9 for forty-four years, from the very beginning of the Hunger Games, and even after all this time Nine has yet to produce a single Victor. It's ridiculous and I wonder what's wrong with this place. The District is plenty big with a variety of potential tributes, and even though a lot of people have had to take tesserae some of the tributes over the years have been strong enough to be major contenders in the Games. And yet, here I am, sitting in the single District with zero Victors. Even District 12 has produced a Victor, so I thought Nine would have at least one by now, but no. I'm still stuck here, year after year, trying my very best for the tributes but failing time and time again.

It's getting really annoying having to sit on the only stage in all of Panem that has only two chairs, one for me and one for the Mayor, who's sitting next to me and gazing out at the audience, his face unreadable.

I'm very tempted to just resign and be through with this annoying shit, but that would dash all my hopes of getting promoted to District 1, the glamorous District where the tributes are all beautiful and strong. I'd be so happy there, because people there actually like the Games and consistently send in great tributes that have a solid shot at winning. Not to mention, they aren't turned off by fanciness. I've been trying for literally decades to escort for One, but no matter how hard I try I'm still escorting for the District with no Victors. What makes me even madder is that District 1 has had three escorts throughout the Games, and the last two have been younger than me. If they can get there, why the heck can't I?

I guess someone has to escort for Nine, though. I just hope that they'll get a Victor quickly so I can get promoted and let someone else take this job. But while I'm here, I might as well try my best to help my tributes. As long as I'm always on my best behavior, I'm sure to get promoted to any District I want as soon as I finally produce a Victor. The officials will admire my dedication and loyalty, and they'll have to promote me.

If only Nine would hurry up…

The current Mayor of the District, Jemal Lequi, gets up from his seat next to me and makes his way to the microphone. As far as mayors go, he's extremely boring, but at least he gets the job done. The crowd quiets down, knowing that the Reaping is starting.

Mayor Lequi gives his usual spiel about the importance of the Hunger Games - not like anyone's interested, but it's required - before announcing my name turning it over to me.

 _Alright, it's showtime,_ I think. _Best behavior, now. No snide remarks towards the District even though you really want to make them._

I stand up, smooth out my suit, and make my way to the microphone, smiling slightly at District 9 but making sure not to overdo it. After all, I have to be sensitive to the feelings of the District, even though their lack of enthusiasm for the Games is disheartening. I wear mostly black, as I've done for two decades, but this year my tie and hair, both of which I change every year, are dark blue.

"Alright District 9," I say briskly, "you know me and I know you, and we both know that there's no point in dragging this out. So let's just reap our tributes and try our best to bring it home this year, okay? I'm sure that this year is the year we finally get a Victor." _Lies._ But I don't say anything more as I walk to the female Reaping Bowl and hastily pull out a name before walking back to the microphone and announcing the tribute.

"Our female tribute is Kauri Balestra!" I exclaim, pronouncing the name loudly and clearly.

I watch the screens set up in the Main Square in anticipation. Each screen shows a different Reaping Area, and most of them exhibit no reaction. On one screen, however - it shows the Reaping Area of a remote part of the District - there is movement as a tan-skinned girl from the eighteen-year-old section steps forward. She wears prisoner's clothes and a scowl.

 _Well, she's a criminal, so I can write her off,_ I think. _That doesn't mean I'm not going to try, though. I have to help my tributes no matter what their backgrounds are._

"Are there any volunteers for Kauri?" I ask as per tradition once Kauri is on the stage, but the entire District is silent at my question. The Reaped girl, Kauri, stands silently in place, glaring outwards at the crowd.

"Alright then, let's move on and meet our boy tribute," I say as I walk to the boys' Reaping Bowl and pluck out a slip. I frown when I recognize the last name, but I can't do anything about it.

"Ohio Lequi!"

 _He's Mayor Lequi's son,_ I think as the Reaped boy comes out of the crowd of seventeen-year-old boys in the Main Square. Since I'm standing in the Main Square as well, I can see him clearly. He seems resolute but not as sour as his District Partner, looking down and exhaling as he walks slowly to the stage.

 _He has a better chance than Kauri,_ I think, _but I'm going to try my best for the both of them. I'll have to, if I want any chance of being promoted._

"Welcome, Ohio," I say gently as the Reaped boy climbs onto the stage. He glances at me before giving a small smile to the crowd. Then he looks at his feet, and I walk over to Ohio to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be alright," I say, knowing that since Ohio is right in front of me it's a good idea for me to comfort him. It's going to make me look better and increase the chances that I'll be promoted. Ohio just shrugs, and I squeeze his shoulder, telling him that we'll talk later.

"Are there any volunteers?" I ask as I return to the microphone, hoping that someone will save the Mayor's son from going into the Arena. I glance at Jemal, who just looks down, averting my gaze. That's interesting. I would've expected a more overt display of sadness and anger. But I don't know Mayor Lequi very well, so maybe he and his son aren't that close. Still, I would've expected a bigger reaction from someone whose son was going into the Hunger Games.

There are no volunteers, not that I expected one. Still, it's a little disappointing. I'm forced to shrug it off and focus on figuring out how to get one of Kauri and Ohio home. I hope that this is the year I can manage to finally bring home a Victor, and maybe I can actually do it because my tributes this time around seem healthy and strong enough.

 _Who are you kidding, Beaumont?_ I think bitterly to myself. _You've failed every time you thought that._

Still, I smile one last time at the District.

"There you have it, folks," I say, relieved that this is over but knowing that I will have to do whatever I can to bring one of the two tributes home. "District 9, your tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Kauri Balestra and Ohio Lequi."

* * *

 **Kauri Balestra, age 18  
** District 9 Female

Well, fuck me sideways. I'm going into the Hunger Games.

I've been seething all the way here. I'm so mad that I was Reaped. I was surprised at first, but why wouldn't the Capitol get rid of a murderer by sending her into the Games? Still, I'm _mad_. It's final - there's absolutely nothing left in the world that I can look forward to.

 _Maybe you can win,_ I think to myself as the armed Peacekeepers shove me roughly into a room where I'm assuming I'll say my final goodbyes before going into the Games. I almost laugh out loud at the thought of escaping this thing alive. What's the point of even trying in the Games? Everything is going to suck for me forever.

"Is all this security really necessary?" I snap as the door closes behind me but three Peacekeepers remain in the room. "I mean, I know I'm a convicted criminal but can't I have a little privacy?"

"Watch your mouth, Miss Balestra," one of the Peacekeepers growls, pointing one of his guns at me. "We don't want to lose a tribute before the Games start, but you'd better respect authority if you want to keep your head."

"Fine, keep your shirt on," I huff as I hear a knock on the door. I stand up to open it.

"Stay seated, Miss Balestra," another one of the Peacekeepers orders, and I sit down, glaring at the uniformed menaces as one of them opens the door and lets my visitors in. I gasp in surprise and happiness when I see that Mom and Mother have come to send me off.

"Mom," I choke out as I rush towards the one person who has understood me throughout my ordeal, but I'm restrained by two Peacekeepers. I quickly sit down, but I continue smiling at my parents.

"Two minutes, and that's it," Mother says sternly, glancing at her watch. "I don't understand you, Reyna. How can you possibly still feel sympathy for the person who murdered our son?"

"Please, Aava, Kauri is going into the Hunger Games," Mom says softly as she walks forward slowly and kneels down in front of me, taking my hand in hers. She glances around the room at the armed Peacekeepers. "Would it be alright if you let us have our time together privately?"

"Ma'am, you're dealing with a convicted murderer here," one of the Peacekeepers restraining me says, and I feel a rush of anger. How can they keep me from the one person I still trust?

"It'll be alright," Mom says firmly. She glances at Mother and says coldly, "I'll see you later, Aava."

"I suppose you can come with us, Aava," one of the Peacekeepers says awkwardly as the three armed guards lead Mother out of the room. Once they're gone, Mom envelops me in an embrace.

"I've always believed you, my dear, sweet Kauri," she says softly, stroking my hair.

"I know," I whisper back, hugging her. "Thank you. Thanks for not betraying me."

"Kauri," Mom says, looking straight into my eyes, "please, do whatever you can to make it out alive. Learn survival skills, weapon skills, anything that will help you win. And stay away from the Careers. It's not worth it, making trouble."

"Don't worry, I plan on steering clear of everyone," I say sincerely. "And I promise, I'll do my best."

"I know you will," Mom says, hugging me quickly again. "I love you, Kauri. Always be aware of that."

"I love you too, Mom," I say quietly, allowing myself a bit of emotion in front of the one person in the world I still trust.

It's okay for me to tell Mom how I really feel. After all, considering what's in store for me, she's going to be the only bright spot in my life for a long time.

I'm still going to try my hardest to make it out of the Arena alive, though. I've killed before. All I'll have to do is kill again.

* * *

 **Ohio Lequi, age 17  
** District 9 Male

I sigh as I sit in the Goodbye Room. Nine is a large District, so Kauri's going to have to take a car to the Justice Building in the Main Square to say her Goodbyes before the both of us head off to the train station. Since it'll take a while for Kauri to get here, I'm probably stuck with quite a bit of time.

At least there are things to do here. There are shelves of books and magazines, and I even see a computer terminal.

I feel myself tearing up as I think about how I've been Reaped into the Hunger Games, and I groan to myself. The last thing I want to feel right now is sadness. That's just going to distract me from surviving the Hunger Games. I get up from the plush couch and pace around the room, thinking about the Games.

 _What are my strengths?_ I think to myself. _Well, if I think ahead and have a plan, I can be decent with words._ I laugh. _And if I don't have a plan, I usually end up making a fool out of myself. So I'd better make plans on how to act in the Games._

As I think, however, I find that the sadness I pushed away earlier keeps returning. Annoyed, I decide to think later and check out what's on the computer. I end up playing a game where you control a snake with the arrow keys until the door opens and two familiar faces walk in.

"Ah, I just died," I mutter as I glance back at the computer screen and see that my snake has run into a wall.

"Don't say that, Ohio," Faye says with a small smile as she closes the door behind her and Toukley. "I know we've grown apart over the years but I was hoping you'd be happier to see us."

My eyes widen in embarrassment. "Oh, no no no, I was talking about this game I was playing," I say quickly, standing up and gesturing at the computer screen. "Ah, sorry, I should've at least greeted you, Faye." I laugh awkwardly and scratch my back. "What's up?"

"I was just going to ask you that," Faye says, sitting on the couch across from me. Toukley follows, and I move the chair in front of the computer so that it's facing my friends.

"Since you just got Reaped I had to visit to see how you were doing and wish you luck," Toukley says. "And since Faye was here too I thought I might as well come in with her."

"Look, I'm sorry guys," I say, more gruffly than intended thanks to my sadness. I laugh awkwardly. "And I didn't mean for that to come out like that."

"Why are you sorry?" Faye asks gently.

"Because I kinda stopped talking to you guys as much as I used to thanks to work and stuff, and that's kinda lame," I say, looking down. "It sucks because now that I'm heading off to the Hunger Games, we don't exactly have a chance to get closer anymore. So the least I can do is apologize for drifting away."

"Don't apologize, Ohio," Toukley says, his voice strained. "I should be the one to apologize for drinking with you."

"Well I haven't touched alcohol for at least a year," I say, smiling, "and I've been doing good work in the fields since then so I think I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Faye asks, frowning. "We haven't really talked for a while. Is everything alright?"

"Well, I'm going into the Hunger Games," I say flatly.

"I hope you win," Faye says, looking into my eyes seriously. "Then we can maybe be friends again." She smiles at Toukley. "The three of us."

"I think you have what it takes, Ohio," Toukley says encouragingly, giving me a smile. "You can be Nine's first Victor, and everything will be great."

"Hopefully then I won't have to deal with feeling sad," I say, smiling back. "Alright guys. I'll try my best and if I manage to come home we'll catch up more."

"I'm gonna miss you, Ohio," Faye murmurs, looking down.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too," Toukley says.

"Hey guys, don't be too sad," I say with a smile, patting Faye on the shoulder. "I'll miss you two but life goes on, right?"

"I guess," Faye says, looking up and giving me a quick smile. She stands up slowly and adds, "Well, good luck in the Arena, Ohio. Do your best, okay?"

"I'll probably die anyways but okay," I say with a laugh. "Bye Faye, bye Toukley."

"Let's go, before they make us," Toukley murmurs, standing up as well. He and Faye make their way to the door, but before Toukley opens it he turns back to me.

"Listen to the trainers, Ohio," he says. "Learn stuff and just do whatever you can to survive."

"I will," I say, nodding.

Faye and Toukley nod back before opening the door, stepping through it, and closing it behind them.

My father is the last person to visit me. He's brief, giving me a quick hug and wishing me the best. Neither of us talk about the arson attack, but we're both fine with it.

I think I'm like my dad. We both work extra hard so we won't have to think about sad things.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to** _ **TheEngineeringGames**_ **for submitting Kauri, our District 9 Female, and thank you to** _ **cornellfann**_ **for submitting Ohio, our District 9 Male! What do you think of Kauri, Ohio, and Beaumont? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **In other news, I've decided on an update schedule! Thanks to everyone who gave me feedback on how often I'm going to update this story. What I've decided is, the chapter after this one (Chapter 7, the District 5 Reaping) will be published on Saturday, August 25th. After that chapter is published, updates will come on a regular schedule of once every two weeks. I've dropped this chapter now to tide you guys over until August 25th, but after August 25th updates will try to be every other Saturday. If I finish a chapter early, I'll save it for its intended publish date and work on future chapters so I can have a cushion for when I get busy. Many thanks to CelticGames4 for giving me the cushion idea! Thanks to everyone for understanding.**

 **That's it for now, and I'll see you all on Saturday, August 25th sharp in District 5!**


	7. District 5 Reaping

**A/N: Strong language throughout Gage's POVs.**

* * *

 **Gage Wilder, age 18  
** District 5 Male

"Move it, scrub!" I yell, laughing and pushing the younger boy out of the way and my friends and I make our way loudly down the sidewalk. The boy yelps as I shove him, but he rushes right back to where he was and looks upwards, glaring at me.

"Hey, that's mean!" he says, his hands on his hips. Damn, this kid's either really spunky or really stupid.

"I said, get out of my way," I growl, putting my hands forcefully on his shoulder. "And for that dirty little comment, I think you've earned yourself a trip to the trash cans."

"Yeah, Gage!" the guys chorus.

"C'mon, Quentin, help me carry him," I say as I start hauling the boy up from underneath his shoulders. Quentin obliges, snickering as he knocks our latest victim off his feet.

"Stop it, or I'll scream!" the boy yells, but I throw a hand over his mouth. Quentin and I laugh as we carry the boy towards the nearest alley and shove him into an overflowing trash can. Then all of run away, laughing.

"Hey!" a voice yells from above us. I look up and spot an old man glaring down at me from his second-floor window.

"Get out of here, all of you!" he yells.

"And why would we listen to you, fart face?" I sneer at the man, standing my ground proudly. The guys whoop and holler.

"Because if you don't leave me alone, I'll call the Peacekeepers, and you know how they are on Reaping Day," the old man growls.

"Guys, we should probably go," one of the guys whose name I don't care to remember says.

"Fine," I say, turning and jogging away. Then I whirl around, smirking at the direction of the old man.

"Yo momma so fat, when she rides an elevator the only way she can go is down!" I yell. Then I laugh to myself as I book it away from there, not caring how many people follow me.

I find myself at a storefront when I slow down. Most of the gang has dispersed, but Quentin is catching up to me.

"Dude, that was awesome!" he exclaims, clapping me on the back.

"People have gotta think twice before they mess with me," I say with a proud smirk.

"Hey Gage, our last year," Quentin says, smiling. "After this let's go have some fun and fuck some shit up."

"Hell yeah!" I say, puffing out my chest. "But why do we have to wait until the Reaping is over? Let's go find some other sucker to shove into a trash can."

"I thought we should get ready, to be honest," Quentin murmurs, glancing at his watch. "We only have an hour left."

I laugh, but my blood turns cold at the thought of spending time with Adam. Adam is my older brother, but only by a hair. Even though he's my twin, he's the worst.

"What, you actually want to spend time with your family?" I say.

"Yeah, me neither," Quentin says, grinning. "Come on, bro, let's swing by the senior housing."

"Aw yeah," I say, smiling and already thinking about the kinds of things I'll say to the old codgers.

* * *

 **Tatum Ridley, age 18  
** District 5 Female

The Shop is always open, even on a day like this. Normally everyone stays home on Reaping Day, but not me, firstly because I gotta bring home some good money and secondly because if I just sat at home not doing anything I'd probably be itching to go out to the Shop anyways.

The Shop is District 5's underground casino, disguised up front as a hobby gaming store. Gambling is technically illegal in Five, but nobody bothers to enforce it because even the Peacekeepers enjoy a good craps game now and then. As for me, gambling is practically my job. Sure, my mother makes money in her power plant, but after Dad died in an accident when I was five years old we fell onto tough times. But ever since I started gambling, we've been able to afford some nice things and a sizable apartment.

Alisha and I pack up our things and walk out of the establishment, waving goodbye to people we recognize. Alisha isn't into gambling, but she's my best friend, so she accompanies me here, mostly because she enjoys socializing with the patrons.

"Made some change at the slot machines today," I say as soon as we're a block away from the shop. "What say we hit the curio shop?"

"Sure, as long as we hit the liquor store afterwards," Alisha says with a smile.

"Deal," I say, smiling back. "I know we should probably save it for after we escape the Reaping, but screw it, any time is a time for wine."

"Our last year, huh," Alisha muses as we walk towards Curie's Curios. "Let's hope we get lucky."

"You know me, Alisha, I'm always lucky," I say with a laugh.

We reach the curio shop in a few minutes. Before we enter, Alisha elbows me gently.

"I know what to do," she says quietly.

"Thanks," I say, nodding to her as we enter.

"Welcome to Curie's Curios," the shopkeeper, a kind but somewhat scatterbrained older woman named Breeze, greets us. Curie is her family's last name, and the shop has been passed down by generation.

"Hi Curie," I say, smiling at her. "We're just buying something nice for ourselves this fine day."

"May I suggest one of these necklaces?" Curie asks, putting a dark brown wooden box on the counter. She opens the box, revealing it to be lined with gold-colored necklaces of varying lengths.

"Hmm, interesting," I say, even though I'm more inclined to look around the shop for something else. If there's one thing I've learned over the years of bargain hunting, it's to agree with the shopekeepers if possible.

"Ooh, that one's pretty," Alisha says, sidling over to me and pointing at a necklace with a golden chain and an amber-colored gem at the end of it. "Matches my eyes."

"Would you like to buy it?" Curie asks.

"I dunno, would you, Tatum?" Alisha says, giving me a glance that lasts for no longer than a second.

"Hmm, it _is_ pretty," I muse, "but I think I'll go with that one."

I point to a less flashy but still beautiful necklace at the edge of the box. Not that I'm interested in wearing it - I hate jewelry - but I'm willing to buy it if it can fetch a high price for me later. My intuition is telling me that that particular necklace can be sold for a higher price than it's worth, and my intuition is often right.

"Alright, your pick," Alisha says knowingly. "I still want that one with the amber-colored gem, though. How much is it worth, Curie?"

Curie gives us the prices of our necklaces of choice, and we quickly purchase them, thanking the shopkeeper for her service before walking out of the store. Alisha admires her necklace as I stuff mine into my pocket.

"Man I really want some chips," Alisha says as we make our way to the liquor store.

"Saaame," I say with a smile. "Nothing wrong with a little pre-Reaping snack."

"How's your mom doing?" Alisha asks. "Is she seeing anyone?"

"Nah," I say with a shrug. "She's cool as ever but I don't think she wants to date anyone at this point. It's been a while since Dad died but it's not like I'm pushing her."

"Well, men kinda suck, anyways," Alisha declares, laughing.

I nod, half-agreeing. I'm not interested in guys at this point even though I'm straighter than an arrow, but I wouldn't say that all of them suck. Still, there's no reason for me to have a boyfriend or anything now, not when I'm fine getting by gambling my way up in the world.

Alisha and I both buy a bottle of wine and a large bag of chips at the liquor store. Then we part ways, going home to get ready for the Reaping.

I can't wait until this is over so I can really enjoy life.

* * *

 **Calypso Cheng, age 28  
** District 5 Escort

The weather is usually clear and sunny, if a bit windy, in District 5. This is unsurprising, considering that the District's industry is power. Five is known for its ability to harness the sun's energy with its solar panels and the wind's energy with its wind turbines, turning both forms of natural energy into electricity that we can use.

Today's weather is the way it usually is when I come here annually for the Reapings. I've only been escorting for seven years, but seven years is long enough to figure out the usual weather in the District I've been escorting for since I started. Despite the somber mood of Reaping Day, the sun shines down steadily and there isn't a single cloud in the clear blue sky. A few of the buildings in the Square are fitted with solar panels for more small-scale power generating, and thankfully the presence of buildings means that it isn't so windy that my long hair will get into my eyes. Still, a light breeze blows around the Square, and it's neither too hot nor too cold. It's a perfect day for a Reaping.

"I hate waiting for the Reaping to start," Atmos murmurs from where he's sitting next to me on the stage. "The anticipation is awful."

I frown and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Atmos Hernandez, Victor of the 34th Games, is always in a low mood during the yearly Reapings. I can't blame him, because it reminds him that the Hunger Games are about to start, and, being from the Districts, he has a fear of them. However, every year, as Atmos starts interacting with his tributes, he gains confidence the more he works with them. He always gives it his all and does his best for himself and his tributes no matter what happens. It's really quite admirable, and I think I may have fallen in love with him if I wasn't gay. Despite my lack of romantic interest, I'm still on good terms with both of the Victors Five has managed to produce over the forty-four years.

"You did great last year, and the year before that, and the year before that," I say gently to Atmos, "so you'll do great this year as well. And I promise you that I won't drag the Reaping out longer than it has to be. Never have, never will."

"We can't thank you enough for your help, Calypso," the other Victor, Dalton Wu, says from the other side of Atmos. "You certainly have been a lot more helpful than your predecessor."

Dalton won the Games when they were getting started - the 6th - and, like Atmos, won them at age sixteen. Dalton has been a wonderful father figure for Atmos over the years, and they've been able to relate to each other well, with their Arenas and Games experiences being similar despite the Games themselves being decades apart. I smile at Dalton, happy to be working with him.

"No, thank _you_ , both of you," I say, giving a small smile. "Working with you two has made my job very rewarding to the point that I don't want to leave Five even if I was offered a so-called promotion. Let's try our best to get one of our tributes home this year."

"It's so unfortunate that at least one of them has to die," Atmos murmurs, "but you're right." He nods, his eyes filled with determination. "Let's all try our best."

The Reaping starts as Mayor Aswar, a short but pretty middle-aged woman, gets up from her seat on the other side of me and walks to the podium at the back of the stage. The Mayor of Five is aloof and distant, but she does her job, and overall life in the District has improved during her term so I'm not complaining. Mayor Aswar gives a short speech somberly welcoming her District to this year's Games before turning the attention to me.

I smile as I get up from my seat and walk to the microphone, my tall heels clicking on the stage as I do so. The sun's light reflects off my sparkling gown, and I feel great and pretty. I'm wearing a lovely long dress covered in sparkles and beautiful shades of blue, and my lavender hair reaches almost to the ground. I've painted nice streaks of blue, purple, and white on my face, and I wear a hairband with wing-like appendages attached to it.

My flamboyant appearance is something I don't ever want to give up. I may be caring to my tributes and the Five Mentors, and some may say that caring people wouldn't wear what I'm wearing when sending kids off to their deaths, but my whole aesthetic is a core part of my identity. I don't think anyone minds my outfits, though, because I try my best for my tributes and don't drag the Reapings on.

"Hello, District 5," I say, projecting my voice but taking care to maintain a neutral tone. "As you may know already, I'm Calypso Cheng, your escort. I'll be drawing the names for this year's Hunger Games, the 44th, so without further ado, let's start by Reaping a girl."

I always start with the girls because I don't think it makes sense to change the order randomly every year. That just adds unnecessary uncertainty to the already stressful Reapings. I understand why some of my fellow escorts would do it, but it's just not my style.

I walk over to the girls' Reaping Bowl, pick out a slip, and walk back to the microphone, unfolding the slip of paper in front of me.

"Will Tatum Ridley please come to the stage," I say, loudly and clearly.

For a few moments, nothing happens, but then a long-haired girl steps out of the section of eighteen-year-olds. She looks shocked, but she's doing a great job at keeping her cool as she walks to the stage on her own. I notice that Tatum's dress is quite plain - just a no-frills, light blue, knee-length dress with an unbuttoned white blouse on top - but the tribute herself is rather pretty, with her brown hair and pale skin.

"Hello, Tatum," I say as the Reaped tribute steps onto the stage. I hold out a hand for her to shake, and she takes it mutely, not meeting my eyes.

"Are there any volunteers for Tatum?" I ask, as per protocol, but the square is silent.

 _I'll do my best for her,_ I decide. _She's eighteen, so at least she won't be an obvious weak target._

"Alright then, let's move on to the boys," I say as I make my way over to the boys' Reaping Bowl and pull out a slip. I walk back to the microphone and say, "Gage Wilder."

A short, stocky boy with short red hair and a serious acne problem steps out of the section of eighteen-year-olds, his eyes wide. He looks to be a rich kid, wearing a full-on tuxedo, albeit with rolled-up sleeves that show off his arm muscles. Still, the Reaped boy looks visibly terrified, his breathing quick and shallow and his eyes darting around, but he still manages to walk to the stage on his own.

"Hello, Gage," I greet the Reaped boy as he arrives at the stage. I shake his very sweaty hand, resisting the urge to wipe my hand on something when I'm done.

"Are there any volunteers?" I as, as Gage stands on the stage, but of course there are none. I smile sadly at the District.

"Well, there you have it, District 5," I say. "Your tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Tatum Ridley and Gage Wilder. Tributes, shake hands."

The two tributes in front of me tentatively do as they are told. Gage still looks scared, but Tatum's eyes appear calculating behind her otherwise neutral facial expression.

 _I wonder if we can do it this year,_ I think as I step aside and let Mayor Aswar retake the stage.

* * *

 **Gage Wilder, age 18  
** District 5 Male

It doesn't take long after Quentin leaves for the door to the Goodbye Room to open again and my family to walk in. I smile when I see Mom and Dad, but my happiness is replaced by a cold feeling of dread as Adam follows them.

"Oh, my poor baby," Mom, sniffles, rushing over to the couch and giving me a hug. Dad follows and sits on the other side of me, hugging me as well. I manage to ignore Adam.

"I can't believe this happened," Dad murmurs sadly, stroking my back. "Gage, I'm going to miss you so much."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Adam growls from where he is standing near the door.

"Gage, please, do whatever you have to do to make it home to us," Mom says, ignoring my brother. "Learn survival skills, master a weapon, make allies, anything. Just please do your best."

"Alright, that's it," Adam yells, striding over to the couch and standing imposingly in front of it. My heart rate instantly goes from zero to a hundred as he screams, "Fuck you, Gage. You're a terrible person who deserves to go die in a fucking hole, you fuckwad. You're a fucking asshole and a _fucking_ waste of space. _Fuck off._ "

I shrink back, holding onto my parents for protection, as Dad clenches his fists in anger.

"Adam!" Mom says loudly, her eyes wide. "Look at what you've done to your poor younger brother, you've made Gage upset." She gives me a tight hug and glares at my twin. "How dare you. How dare you speak to him like that when he just got Reaped. We're going to make you do extra work tonight."

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me," Adam growls, grabbing me by the shirt collar and prying me away from Mom. My heart rate shoots through the roof again as Adam grabs my ear and gives it a sharp upwards tug.

"What the _fuck_ , Mom!" Adam screams, still gripping me by the ear. My eyes widen, my heart hammering in my chest.

 _Mom, Dad, do something!_ I want to scream, but Adam is faster.

"Why am I always the one who's wrong?" he yells. He lets go of my ear, but before I can feel relieved he shoves me forward forcefully, which causes me to fall into the couch. "You spoil Gage and give him whatever the fuck he wants, while making me work in the shop. And it's not just you, Mom, Dad does it too. You don't let Gage experience any consequences as he goes around being shit to people. You always rush to Gage's side whenever he _appears_ to have a problem, and you've never listened to me. All because I'm older by, what, a minute? If you really think you can get me to do extra work today, you can _kiss my ass_."

"Adam, that's enough," Dad says, his eyes burning with rage as I hide behind Mom. "Get out."

Adam purses his lips. "Fine," he snarls, and whirls around. He walks briskly towards the door, but instead of opening it, he turns around abruptly, rushes towards me, and punches me in the face.

"OW!" I scream in horror as Adam's fist connects with my nose. My world gets blurry, but I can vaguely see Adam running as fast as he can away from me and out of the door.

"Gage, here!" Mom screams, shoving a fistful of tissues to me. "Honey, go after him and get the Peacekeepers if you have to, I'm helping our baby."

"It hurts!" I sob as I hold the tissues to my bleeding nose. "Adam punched me and it hurts!"

"There, there, sweetheart, the Capitol will fix you right up," Mom says, stroking my back. Dad glances concernedly at us, and when Mom nods at him, he walks briskly out of the Goodbye Room and shuts the door behind him.

"I'm scared of him," I say quietly as I lean into Mom. "Why is he like this?"

"I don't know, Gage, honey," Mom murmurs, kissing me on the forehead. "Oh, my baby boy, I'll miss you so much. But he won't hurt you if you come home. Even Adam will never harm a Victor."

"I hope," I murmur, throwing the blood-soaked tissues in the trash as I grab more. "You never know with that asshole."

"We'll do our best to protect you, that's for sure," Mom says, giving me a hug. "Oh, I wish you didn't have to go. But you can do it. I hope I'll see you again in a few weeks."

"I hope so too," I say, giving my mother a hug. "I'll try my very best to come home. I'll even be nice to people if I have to."

"That's my boy," Mom says, smiling sadly at me.

Our time is up all too soon, and I'm left sitting alone in the Goodbye Room, contemplating on how I'm going to get out of this alive.

* * *

 **Tatum Ridley, age 18  
** District 5 Female

The weight of the situation I'm in doesn't crash down upon me until a few minutes after I'm situated in the Goodbye Room. Now that I'm alone, I finally have the time to realize that _holy shit_ , I'm going into the Hunger Games.

I don't know whether to scream or cry, so I do both. I let out a frustrated yell and bury my face in my hands, sobbing. I know I can't do this for too long, however, because I don't want to make it too obvious that I've been crying when the cameras catch me on the way to the train. Some tributes won't care, but I know more than anyone that all the pieces have to fall in the right place.

I take a deep breath and grab a few tissues, wiping away my tears. I've barely thrown away the tissues when the door to the room opens and my mother walks in.

She looks as if she's been crying, so I don't say anything as she walks straight to me and envelops me in a tight hug. I hug her back as she sobs quietly into my shoulder.

"Oh, Tatum, I'm so sad that I'm going to lose you," Mom sniffles, breaking the hug and facing me. "First my husband, and now my daughter too?"

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I say quietly, burying my face in her shoulder. "But I'll try my best to come home to you." I smile. "You know me, I tend to have good luck."

"Not today, because you got Reaped on your last year," Mom mutters, kissing my forehead. "But there's no changing the past. Just… please try your very hardest to win, okay?"

"I promise I'll try, Mom," I say, squeezing my mother's hand. "Can you promise to be okay when I'm gone?"

"I'll have to, right?" Mom says, sighing. "I became okay after your father's death, even if it took a while and I still miss him. So I'll be okay eventually no matter what, even though I'll always, _always_ miss and remember you, Tatum."

"I love you too," I murmur, giving my mother a hug again.

"Listen," Mom says, her gaze serious, "you can do this. Play to your strengths. You're great at taking calculated risks, so keep doing that in the Arena. Coast through the middle of the crowd - don't appear too strong or too weak - but be adaptive, like you always are."

"Alright," I say, nodding seriously. "I won't do anything stupid. You can count on me, Mom."

"I know that I can," Mom says, hugging me again.

Mom and I continue to talk, mostly about strategy, before her time is up and she has to leave. I allow myself to cry just a bit, knowing that this is the last time I'll see my mother for a while, before the door opens and Alisha walks in.

"Tatum!" she exclaims, giving me a quick hug before plopping down next to me. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Alisha," I murmur, "but I'll try my best. That much I can promise."

"I can't believe this," she mutters. "Just this morning we were hanging out and considering saving that bottle of wine for after the Reaping."

"Well, I guess at the very least, you can still enjoy that wine," I joke, somewhat bitterly. "No, seriously, Alisha, enjoy life while I'm away. You know what I say, don't stop moving up."

"I'll do my best," Alisha says, nodding. "Oh, Tatum, just be careful in there, okay? You probably shouldn't make any allies, you have no idea whether they're planning on stabbing you in the back."

"I don't intend on having allies," I say, and I mean it. "I won't look for any because I'm fine on my own. I'll just do whatever is the best to do when the situation arises."

"That's a good plan," Alisha says, smiling sadly. "I guess I can't say anything more except good luck, Tatum."

"Yeah, you too," I say, smiling back.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to** _ **IciclePower33**_ **for submitting Gage, our District 5 Male, and thank you to** _ **tracelynn**_ **for submitting Tatum, our District 5 Female! What do you think of Gage, Tatum, and Calypso? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **This SYOT is now CLOSED! To everyone who submitted, I can't thank you enough, and I can't wait to get this show on the road.**

 **Here is the final tribute list:**

 **District 1 Female: Morgan Chatelaine, age 18, submitted by krasnymak  
District 1 Male: Glitz Mayfair, age 18, submitted by CelticGames4**

 **District 2 Female: Sequoia Clearwater, age 18, submitted by theflowercrowns**  
 **District 2 Male: Jason "Jae" Trynx, age 18, submitted by epictomguy**

 **District 3 Female: Caltryx Mortem, age 18, submitted by paperairline**  
 **District 3 Male: Andir Marx, age 18, submitted by IciclePower33**

 **District 4 Female: Catalina Asbury, age 18, submitted by Smiley (Guest)**  
 **District 4 Male: Mako Bailey, age 17, submitted by AkaneOfFan (Guest)**

 **District 5 Female: Tatum Ridley, age 18, submitted by tracelynn**  
 **District 5 Male: Gage Wilder, age 18, submitted by IciclePower33**

 **District 6 Female: Mercedes Fletcher, age 16, submitted by 04darkwarrior1**  
 **District 6 Male: Miles Anderson Way, age 18, submitted by AmericanPi**

 **District 7 Female: Rattana Penner, age 16, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**  
 **District 7 Male: Luca Springe, age 12, submitted by Honeyburst**

 **District 8 Female: Clarissa Seldon, age 14, submitted by uniqueUsername1024**  
 **District 8 Male: Soy Nylsen, age 13, submitted by cornellfann**

 **District 9 Female: Meghan Curdews, age 17, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**  
 **District 9 Male: Ohio Lequi, age 17, submitted by cornellfann**

 **District 10 Female: Henna Fowler, age 18, submitted by AmericanPi**  
 **District 10 Male: Vancon Weiler, age 16, submitted by HoppsHungerfan**

 **District 11 Female: Abilene Ackerman, age 17, submitted by curiousclove**  
 **District 11 Male: Winstead Dale, age 17, submitted by curiousclove**

 **District 12 Female: Isadora Fink, age 17, submitted by Author-Hime**  
 **District 12 Male: Mero Coutel, age 14, submitted by cornellfann**

 **In other news, I would like to ask you all a question: Are you okay with one of your submitted tributes killing another one of your submitted tributes in the same story? If so, under what circumstances? I'd love an answer, whether via review or PM, by submitters who have more than one tribute in this story, so I can plan out story arcs. Even if you don't have more than one tribute in this story, I'd like to hear your thoughts.**

 **I'll see you all in two weeks (Saturday, September 8th) sharp in District 12!**


	8. District 12 Reaping

**A/N: Hey, I'm back. School is in full swing and has been nuts, which is why I've been inactive and this chapter was so late. Another reason for this chapter's lateness was the fact that I was feeling particularly uninspired by the two tributes in this chapter. They're not bad tributes at all, but for some reason I struggled to capture both these tributes, which was frustrating. I considered just writing another District, but I didn't want to because I already said that this chapter would be D12.**

 **I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but I hope to update with the D1 Reapings on Saturday, October 6th and after that I can go back to updating every other Saturday. Now that I've had some time to adjust to school I'm going to try my best to stick to a biweekly update schedule.**

 **Thanks for understanding everyone. Without further ado, please enjoy District 12!**

* * *

 **Mero Coutel, age 14  
** District 12 Male

"Where are you kids going?" Mrs. Faulkner asks as Luna, Myrtle, Aric, and I run past her in the hallway.

I jog back to smile at the elderly matron of the Community Home. "We're going out to play," I say, skidding to a stop in front of the old woman. "I know most of the kids are in their rooms but we're not like most of the kids."

"Always full of energy, aren't you all," Mrs. Faulkner says with an exhausted smile. "Alright, just be back by noon, okay?"

"Sure," I say with a grin. "Come on, guys! I'll race y'all to the edge of town."

"Not everything is a race, Mero!" Aric grumbles, but he hurries after me along with the rest of my friends as I laugh and trot out of the main Community Home building. I smile as I step outside and bask in the warm sun. Then I make a beeline for the edge of District 12's merchant section. Luna is close behind me, but I'm faster than her, and I reach the large tree marking the beginning of the Seam before the rest of my friends.

"What do you want to do today, Mero?" Luna asks once the four of us have gathered at the tree.

"I was thinking we could check out the old cabin," I say in a hushed, excited voice.

"But that's outside the District border," Myrtle says quietly. "Do we really want to go into the woods on Reaping Day?"

"Why not?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders. "Just because it's Reaping Day doesn't mean that we can't have fun, right?"

"Well, I'd rather have fun than sit around sulking," Aric declares. "Might as well."

"Come on, Myrtle," Luna says with a smile. "It's still early. We'll definitely be back by noon."

"Alright," Myrtle says. "Lead the way Mero, you know the way better than the rest of us."

"It'll be fun, I promise," I say as I start trotting through the Seam. Most of the houses are silent, their inhabitants deciding to spend Reaping Day indoors, but I know that there are too many fun things to do to spend any day cooped up inside. The dusty streets are deserted as my friends and I make our way towards the Meadow.

"Ooh, spores," I say as I spot a lone fern nestled under a crooked tree. I trot over to the fern and lift it up, revealing rows of orange spores on the underside of the green leaf.

"Eww, spores are gross," Luna whines, hiding behind Aric.

"I think they're neat," I say, crouching down and examining the frond. "Look, there are so many of them."

"Stop it Mero, spores give me the creeps," Aric says, taking a step back and causing Luna, who's hiding behind him, to yelp. I chuckle a little, but I let go of the plant and dust my hand off.

"Sorry guys," I say apologetically. "Let's keep going."

"And please no more spores," Luna says as she and my friends follow me.

"No spores," I say, using my finger to make a crossing motion on my chest. "Hey, what do you guys think the Arena will be like this year?"

"I'd rather not think about it," Myrtle says as we continue walking. "No matter how cool the Arena looks, twenty-three people are still going to die in it."

"Well, on the bright side, the Victor gets to have whatever they want," I say. "How cool would it be if I were a Victor? I can go to the Capitol as much as I want to and maybe even go to one of those cool schools to study architecture. And we can all be rich."

"You'd have to win the Hunger Games against people twice your size, so forget it," Aric grumbles. "You're not thinking of volunteering, are you?"

"Of course not!" I exclaim. "I'm not stupid."

"Says the person who almost ate a nightlock berry thinking it was edible," Aric snickers.

"That was one time," I protest, "and it wasn't funny. I could've died."

"Knock it off Aric, Reaping Day is the worst time to joke about death," Myrtle says.

"Alright, fair enough," Aric concedes. "Let's talk about something else, then. Remember the time we went to the cabin and found a half-eaten squirrel in the corner?"

"That's not that much better, Aric," Luna says, though she's smiling. "I wonder what we'll find today."

"Not a half-eaten squirrel, I hope," I quip, causing my friends to laugh.

We continue chatting until we see the fence surrounding the District in the distance. Technically it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, but every time we've come here it's been off. Still, my friends and I quiet down as we approach the loose bit in the fencing we use to sneak out of the District.

We find the cabin easily enough. It's one of my favorite places to visit, and every time I come here I can't help but wonder who built it. One of these days, when I'm grown up, I'm going to build a cabin of my own, or maybe something bigger like a merchant shop. It's going to be a nice building, with my own garden in the front so passersby can marvel at the flowers and plants.

A lot of people in my District are sad that they live in Twelve, but not me. There are so many things around District 12 to explore, and I'm sure that I'll only have more opportunities when I grow up. For now, though, I'm happy to just enjoy life as it comes.

* * *

 **Isadora Fink, age 17  
** District 12 Female

It's time to go home to pick my younger brother Cedric up for the Reaping.

I rinse the paint off the brush, place the lid back onto the paint can, and carry the painting tools towards the front door of Peacekeeper Young's house. I get ready to act at least relatively pleasant to Peacekeeper Young even though I want nothing to do with him. The only reason why I ever act sociable is to help my brother, but that's as good of a reason as any.

I hate the idea of smiling and being courteous to a Peacekeeper because they're the reason my parents are dead. Five years ago, Cedric and I were forced to watch as Mother and Father were publicly executed for defying Peacekeeper orders. Cedric was only eight years old then. I'm still not sure what Mother and Father did besides linger at the scene of a murder investigation, but that doesn't matter now. I'm willing to do jobs and be nice to Peacekeepers if that means that I can protect Cedric and keep the both of us out of the District 12 Community Home.

I have nothing against the Community Home. It wasn't too bad when Cedric and I became stuck there after our parents died and nobody took us in or stepped in to help us. The matron, Mrs. Faulkner, was a decent woman. Mrs. Faulkner was very old though, and I'm still worried that she could drop dead any moment and leave the Community Home in chaos. I didn't want Cedric to have to live through that.

Once I realized that Cedric and I were on our own, I vowed to always be there for my brother, and from the moment I realized that it was up to me to protect Cedric I worked my ass off to move the two of us out of the Community Home. Sure, the Community Home provided a roof over our heads and gave us our basic necessities, but I didn't want to risk Mrs. Faulkner dying on us. Now, thanks to four years of me doing odd jobs for various people, I've been able to save up for a tiny shack.

I knock on Peacekeeper Young's front door, trying not to be jealous of the large house. The Peacekeeper, a balding, pale-skinned, middle-aged man, opens the door, stone-faced.

"Sir, I'm finished for the day," I say, equally stone-faced. "I'm going home to pick up my brother for the Reaping."

"Just leave the materials on the front porch, I'll take care of them," Peacekeeper Young says. "Thanks for being willing to work on Reaping Day."

"I expect the payment in full when I'm done," I say, which elicits a frown from the Peacekeeper. Maybe that was too direct. I don't care about making everyone happy, but I need the money.

"Have a nice day, sir," I say, dipping my head quickly. Peacekeeper Young nods and closes the door. I scowl as I place the painting materials onto the porch.

I take a deep breath, glad that my work for the day is done. I make my way back to my home in the Seam, putting my head down and walking quickly. Thankfully there aren't that many people in the streets along the way, and nobody tries talking to me.

"Hey Cedric, I'm home," I say as I swing the door to the shack open.

"Hi Isa," my thirteen-year-old brother says, smiling at me and looking up from his schoolwork. I walk over to him and give him a big hug, which he returns.

"How are you feeling?" I ask softly.

"Not great because it's Reaping Day, but otherwise it's alright," Cedric answers. "Do we need to get going right now?"

"Yeah," I answer, stepping back and sighing. "Let's just get it over with."

* * *

 **Bling Bing, age 30  
** District 12 Escort

Another Games, another year stuck in District 12. I hate this place, but I can't help raking my gaze over the decrepit buildings in the Square. Literally everything is falling apart, and the air weighs heavily of coal dust. And to think that this is the _nicest_ place in the District!

I still can't believe that they picked me of all people to escort for the worst District. I mean, come on. I'm fabulous, and Twelve is not. I like the Hunger Games, and Twelve does not. I actually have the decency to keep up a good appearance, and Twelve does not. I'll even take Eleven over Twelve, but somehow they think Florin La Rue, who's younger than me, is more suited to that District than I am. Not that I'd be happy in District 11 - they're almost as dirt-poor as Twelve is - but at least the position is better than the current one I have. I mean, if I were in Florin's position I would at least be able to say to people, "At least I don't escort for the worst District!" But alas, the truth of the matter is that currently I _do_ escort for the worst District.

I thought being an escort would be fun, but then again I expected to be assigned to, well, not Twelve.

I honestly can't wait to get this Reaping over with. I know that _someone_ has to do the job of escorting for Twelve, and for now that person is me, but that doesn't mean I have to be nice about it or enjoy it.

I slouch in my seat next to Yuri Coulson, the only Victor this godforsaken District has managed to produce over the forty-four years of Hunger Games, and cross my arms. I glance at the town clock impatiently as the Square continues to fill with people, and then let out an annoyed sigh.

"Yuri, you think you can actually get a Victor this year?" I ask.

"I'm going to try my very best to bring one of our tributes home," Yuri says in that annoyingly quiet voice of hers.

"Yeah, that's what you say every year," I say, whipping my head around and glaring at the old lady. "When's it actually going to happen so that I can get promoted?"

"I-" Yuri's eyes widen. "I don't know," she says, looking away.

"For fucks sake," I sigh, rolling my eyes. "No wonder Twelve has such a high escort turnover rate. This District sucks."

"Bling, please," the Mayor of this godforsaken District, a man in his late forties named Carter Peet, reprimands me from his seat on the other side of Yuri. "Show a little more respect, will you?"

"How about your District show a little more respect to its _Capitolite_ escort by making this place look actually decent?" I retort.

"Bling, do you want this job or not?" Mayor Peet asks. "A big part of being an escort is respecting the District you escort for. If you can't manage basic respect, we're going to have to call for your removal."

"I wanted to escort for District 4," I whine, "but I got _assigned_ to your lousy excuse for a District."

"Well, you were hired to do this job, so you'd better do it well," Mayor Peet says decisively, folding his arms on his lap. "Either that, or you resign. Simple as that."

"Oh, how dare you speak to a Capitolite like that," I seethe. "Guess what? I'm a Capitolite and you're not, so I can do whatever I want. So there."

"We'll see about that," Mayor Peet murmurs. "Now, I think it would be better if we all just kept things sailing smoothly and got the Reaping over with."

"At least I can agree with that," I huff, sitting up a little straighter. The golden chains I wear draped around my neck jingle against each other at this action, and I can tell that the noise bothers both Yuri and Mayor Peet but in all honesty I don't care. If those Twelve coalfaces think they're the boss of me, they're sorely mistaken.

I sit and wait for far too long before the town clock rings, and Mayor Peet gets up slowly from his seat. He squeezes Yuri's shoulder, and the Victor nods, smiling at the Mayor. Mayor Peet walks to the podium, and the Square quiets down as he begins his speech welcoming the District to this year's Hunger Games. He introduces Yuri, and the crowd breaks into respectful applause as Twelve's only Victor smiles shyly and dips her head. I roll my eyes.

"And now, I'll turn things over to our escort, Bling Bing," Mayor Peet says, gesturing to me and walking back to his seat. I stand up, moving my large, gold-encrusted sunglasses from my glittery, black-and-gold baseball cap to cover my eyes. I flash my gold jewelry to the camera before swaggering fabulously to the microphone. Hey, if I want to get promoted it can't hurt to express to everyone how fabulous I am.

"Hey hey hey, coal people of District 12," I say loudly into the microphone. "I'm your _fabulous_ escort, Bling Bing, and for the sake of both me and you you'd better win this year. Let's get this over with so I can get out of here."

I move briskly to a random Reaping Bowl, not bothering to announce whether I'm Reaping a boy or a girl. I walk quickly back to the microphone, open up the slip, and say into the microphone, "Isadora Fink!"

A small girl steps calmly out of the section of seventeen-year-olds. I study the tribute carefully. She doesn't look too bad for a coalface, with her icy blue eyes and ashen skin littered with faint freckles. Her hair is long, wavy, and dark brown, with light brown highlights. If the stylists cleaned her up she would actually look half-decent. Add that to her steel-faced, resolute demeanor, and I think I've got a fighter who actually has a shot at promoting me to a better District.

"Hurry up, will you," I say as Isadora makes her way slowly to the stage. "I haven't got all day."

Isadora speeds up, but not by much. I resist the urge to heave a heavy sigh. This District really gets on my nerves, but I know that I have to get the job done, not only because someone has to do the job but also because that will help me get the promotion I deserve.

"Are there any volunteers?" I ask, as I have to, but I expect none and get none. I let out a small sigh and say, "District 12, your female tribute, Isadora Fink. Time to choose a boy."

I make my way over to the boys' Reaping Bowl. I'm about to just pluck out a name from the top of the pile when I reconsider and swirl my hand a few times in the bowl. The higher-ups are going to appreciate me for making the Reaping more interesting.

"I really wonder who it will be," I say, though my enthusiasm sounds fake. This really sucks, and I start wondering why I decided to attempt enthusiasm in the first place. I faked enthusiasm my first two years and that didn't get me out of this stupid District, so why start doing it now? I dig a little before choosing a slip and walking with it back to the center of the stage.

"Will Mero Coutel please come to the stage," I say, dropping my fake enthusiasm and deciding to go back to getting the Reaping over with.

A weird noise that sounds somewhere between a gasp and a cow being strangled emanates from somewhere in the crowd of boys. My eyes scan the Reaping-age boys for movement before resting on the Reaped tribute, who lurches forward from the section of fourteen-year-olds. He's small and skinny, with the typical District 12 look of black hair and gray eyes.

I roll my eyes again. I totally know which tribute has the better chance of getting me a promotion, and it isn't this little shrimp. Thankfully, Mero at least moves faster than Isadora did, his stubby legs hurrying to the stage as his wide eyes dart around nervously.

"Oh, please stop that, you're not a scared little rabbit," I huff as the boy climbs onto the stage, his eyes still doing that annoying thing. "Are there any volunteers for Mero?"

I'm technically supposed to count to thirty before moving on, but I can't be bothered at this point. So I heave an audible sigh and say, "District 12, your male tribute, Mero Coutel. So these are your tributes for this year, District 12, Mero Coutel and Isadora Fink. Tributes, shake hands."

I only said that because I have to, not because I have any interest in watching my coal-faced tributes shake hands. I place the microphone back into its stand and hurry to my seat, already thinking about how I'm going to secure sponsors for Isadora and Mero.

* * *

 **Mero Coutel, age 14  
** District 12 Male

Luna and Myrtle follow Aric out of the door, which closes behind my friends. I'm not expecting any other visitors, so I lie down onto the couch, thinking about how I'm going to have to learn how to master a weapon in three days. Despite everything, I can't help but daydream about winning the Games so that Myrtle can study culinary arts, I can study architecture, and my friends and I can all follow our dreams.

I'm shutting my eyes and thinking about what I'll train in when the door opens again. I quickly sit up and stare in surprise at the middle-aged man who's walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Hello, son," the man says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "How are you doing?"

"Wait, what?" I ask, utterly confused. "Why did you just call me son?"

"Mero, I am your father, Reed Coutel," the man says, extending his hand. I shake it tentatively, a million questions running through my head. _I have a dad?_

"That doesn't make sense," I blurt out. "I've lived in the Community Home all my life."

"Not your whole life," the man says matter-of-factly as he sits down onto the seat across from me. "I gave you up when you were two years old. Looking back that wasn't the best decision of my life, but I had no choice. I wasn't equipped to take care of you, and I still am not, but before you get sent into the Hunger Games I need to tell you that I'm very proud of the fine young man you've become."

"Hey, thanks," I say with a smile, "but what do you mean you weren't equipped to take care of me? If you're my dad that means you're one of my parents, and parents are supposed to take care of their kids, right?"

"I wish it were that simple," the man - my father - says with a sigh. "After your mother left me and then died, I suffered. I became so depressed that I could barely take care of myself. I just wasn't able to take care of you, so I had to give you up. But it seems as if you turned out fine. The Community Home isn't a bad place."

"I guess not," I say. "Most of the caretakers are nice, and I met my three best friends there. They came to visit me before you."

"I can see that," my father says, smiling slightly. "I'm glad that you have made friends and had a generally good life in the Community Home. Try your best to come home, okay? I'm just-" He sighs, putting his head in his hands. "Things have continued being hard for me throughout the years. I'm still not equipped to care for a growing young boy like you. But if you come home a Victor, you'll have everything you ever wanted or needed, and then perhaps we can meet each other properly."

"Yeah, of course!" I say happily. I lean forward and squeeze my father's wrist, causing the man to look up and see my smile.

"Hey, don't be sad," I say. "I know I can do it. I'm not like most tributes my age, I'm willing to fight and learn weapon skills if that means I can come home. Wow, I can't believe I actually have a dad! I'm definitely going to try my best."

"Well, I guess it really isn't my place to put a damper on you," Dad says, leaning forward and hugging me. "But no matter what, I hope I'll be able to see you again in a few weeks."

"I hope so too," I say as I hug him back. We stay like that for a while before my father leans back and squeezes my shoulder gently.

"I'd better leave before a Peacekeeper makes me," he says, "so good luck, Mero. I'm glad that I got to meet you."

"Me too," I say as Dad gets up from his seat and walks to the door. He smiles sadly at me one last time before opening the door, stepping out of the room, and closing the door behind him.

 _Wow, I have a dad!_ I think to myself as I'm left alone in the room, my mind buzzing with thoughts. _I HAVE to come home now. I'll even kill if I have to._

* * *

 **Isadora Fink, age 17  
** District 12 Female

I hardly take note of the luxury of the room I'm sitting in. The couches are soft velvet, and I'm running a hand on it to calm myself down, but I'm also thinking about how I'll fight and kill my way through the Games. I know that, when the time comes, I will have no doubt, no hesitation to kill anyone who gets between me and my goal of protecting Cedric.

Whatever I do, I can't cry. I know I'm not in public right now, but if I cried right now, the moment I step out of this room the cameras will be able to capture my puffy eyes and red cheeks. I don't want anyone thinking I'm weak, too weak to fight my way through the Games in order to come home and protect my brother.

My younger brother, who I'm willing to kill for, who I'm willing to fight tooth and nail until my last breath for, comes into the room. Tears stain his face, and he comes straight for me, the door closing on its own behind him. I embrace Cedric tightly, he hugs me back, and we stay like that for a long time, neither of us saying a word.

I'm willing to give Cedric all the time he needs, but pretty soon he breaks free from our hug and wipes his face with his sleeve.

"Here," I say, handing him a tissue from the box on the table next to the couch. Cedric takes the tissue and wipes away his tears with it. When he's done, I grab his shoulders.

"I'm going to come home to you," I say forcefully. "You deserve better than the heartbreak of having to fend for yourself. Just do whatever you can to survive, and I'll be back in a few weeks."

"I don't know, Isa," Cedric says softly, looking down. "What if you die? I'll miss you so much."

"Oh, Cedric, I'll miss you too," I say, my grip softening, "and I can't promise that I won't die. But I _can_ promise that I'll try and fight my very hardest to win so I can protect you. I'm willing to do anything for you. Whatever it takes. I'll fight and kill everyone who stands in the way, and you'd better believe it."

"I believe you," Cedric says, his voice growing steadier as he locks his gaze with mine. "Just please, please try your best."

"I promise," I say, hugging my little brother tightly. My brother, who means the world to me, hugs me back.

"How are you feeling, Cedric?" I ask after a minute or so passes. "Please be strong."

"I'm trying," Cedric says, freeing himself from our hug and giving me a small smile. "I'm going to carry on no matter what happens."

"Whatever you do, listen to the Peacekeepers," I say grimly. "I know you're still sad about what happened to Mother and Father after they rebelled. I miss Mother and Father too. But your life is worth so much more than anything else, Cedric, so please please always follow Peacekeeper orders, even if it's just to stay alive."

"I know," Cedric murmurs, his face falling upon the mention of our parents. "And I swear, Isa, I promise I'll listen to the Peacekeepers. Always have, always will."

"Just carry on with your life, and I'll be back before you know it," I say, hugging my brother again. "Be strong."

All too soon, it's time for Cedric to leave. I give my brother one last, quick hug before he departs, wisely following Peacekeeper orders.

I lean back in the couch and close my eyes, already missing Cedric. It was heartbreaking enough for him when Mother and Father were publicly executed, and I can't imagine how much pain he'd have to go through if I don't come back.

 _I'm going to come back,_ I think, putting my game face on. _I have to, for Cedric's sake._

I don't get any visitors other than my brother, but that's okay because I don't really talk to anyone besides him and I don't expect anyone besides Cedric to visit me anyways. I frown as I imagine having to deal with that obnoxious escort. But I quickly steel myself and get my game face on.

I'll do anything for my brother.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you** _ **cornellfann**_ **for submitting Mero, our District 12 Male, and many thanks to** _ **Author-Hime**_ **for submitting Isadora, our District 12 Female! What do you think of Mero, Isadora, and Bling? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **So I know that the District 12 Community Home is an abusive, oppressive environment in canon, but keep in mind that firstly this SYOT takes place a few decades before the 74th Games and secondly this story is AU anyways.**

 **In other news, I'm working on a blog for this story, but it isn't ready yet. I anticipate it to be ready during the next update, but I'm not sure.**

 **I'll see you all hopefully on Saturday, October 6th in District 1!**


	9. District 1 Reaping

**A/N: Sorry for being late again. Full disclosure, both these tributes were a little tricky to write because their forms had so much detail in them. I'm not saying that longer forms are bad, but because there was so much content in these two tributes' forms it was difficult to decide how to best express the characters in their intro chapter. I'm pretty satisfied with how this chapter turned out, though, so without further ado please enjoy District 1!**

* * *

 **Morgan Chatelaine, age 18  
** District 1 Female

Not every Academy trainee in District 1 swims regularly, but I hit the Academy pool for an hour every day. It's calming being in water, and it's also important in the Hunger Games to be a good swimmer. Not every Arena includes bodies of water, but ever since I was eleven years old I've realized how important it is to be prepared.

I think about the Career system as I freestyle in the pool. The Hunger Games are an unavoidable punishment for the Districts' rebellion, but the Career Academy provides tributes with a fair chance. It's better than the situation in the Outer Districts - I've watched time and time again as twelve-year-olds, sick kids, disabled tributes, and even a heavily pregnant girl from the 37th Games were forced into the Games against their will. At age eleven I pledged to volunteer for the Games once I was eighteen, to continue the thankful tradition of District 1 sending willing volunteers.

I can't help but have some doubts, though. I hate unequal fights, so I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to kill a weaker tribute. Despite my experiences with watching the Games, maybe I can be an honorable Career who only kills when she has to. But I can't think too much of that right now. I've gotta finish this lap before cooling down and then getting ready for Reaping Day Brunch.

I pant with exertion as I put on a final burst of speed, reaching the finish line a second before Cartier. He's super cute and the darling of the District 1 Academy, slated to volunteer next year. I'm crushing on him hard, but I can't tell him how I feel now, not when I'm going into the Games and he probably likes Iolanthe anyways. Maybe I can tell him once I come home a Victor.

"You wanna swim some more or just call it a day?" Cartier asks, water streaming down his bare torso.

"Where are you going?" I ask. _Damn, awkward._

"That's kind of a weird question but I was just going to go home," Cartier answers.

"Are you coming to Reaping Day Brunch?" I ask. _Please say yes…_

"Nah, why would I?" Cartier says, chuckling. "I've got better things to do."

"Iolanthe will be there," I blurt out, wanting to see him later today.

"Well damn, I'd better come to support the chosen volunteer, then," Cartier declares, hauling himself out of the pool. I try not to stare too much as water drips down onto the concrete surface.

"Yeah, um, I'll see you there," I say. "I'm going to cool down with some breaststroke, and then I'm going to go home and get ready-"

"Sure, as long as you bring Iolanthe we're good," Cartier says, waving briefly at me before grabbing his towel and disappearing into the locker room.

I sigh as I start my cooldown. I wish I wasn't so awkward…

Alone in the pool, it's harder to focus on just the motions of my body as I cool down. My mind keeps wandering to the Games and how I have no idea who's going to join my District Partner Glitz and I in the Career Pack. I hope that the other Careers are easy enough to get along with. I'm nervous about the Interview too, because I don't like to think about the lights and the crowd. I wonder if I can still win the Games if I screw up my Interview.

Before I know it, the hour is up, and I leave the pool, sufficiently cooled down. I grab my stuff, take a quick shower in the Academy pool locker room, and head to the parking lot where my mom agreed to pick me up. I would drive myself, but my mom wants to involve herself in my Academy training, and I'm not going to have her swallow her pride.

I'll be wearing my Reaping outfit during Reaping Day Brunch, an Academy-run event that happens every year on Reaping Day. Attendance is required for the chosen volunteers and mentors, but a lot of other people, including the tributes' friends and family, often show up as well. Strike Worthington, Victor of the 7th Games and Headmaster of the District 1 Academy, personally hosts Reaping Day Brunch every year. Even though I purposefully picked something less fancy as my Reaping outfit, I'll still have to spend some time getting ready for both the Brunch and the Reaping itself.

I quickly spot my mom's car and hop in, greeting my mother. We chat on the way home, my mom expressing how proud she is of my bravery and the fact that I was the chosen volunteer.

"I hope Dad enjoys Reaping Day Brunch," I say.

"He'd better," Mom murmurs, her face falling. "I still don't understand why he doesn't want you in the Games. I keep telling him that you have the ability to win but does he listen?"

"I hope you two get along better once I come home," I say, trying to sound more confident than I actually am.

"I hope so too," Mom says. "Knowing Headmaster Worthington, I know Reaping Day Brunch will be great. Just get ready and let me know when you're done, okay?"

We reach home in a few minutes, and I waste no time in opening the garage door and greeting Sparkles, my huge, shaggy, overly enthusiastic mutt.

"Hey Sparkles, who's a good girl?" I coo, scratching my gigantic dog behind her ears. "Calm down girl, I'm happy to see you too. I'm getting ready for the Hunger Games so I'll be away for a few weeks, but I'll see you soon okay? Hey, lemme get upstairs."

I laugh to myself as Sparkles gives me just enough space to sneak past her and dart up the stairs. I know this isn't the last I'll see of Sparkles, especially because I'm going to greet her one last time on my way out, but I still hope that Mom and Dad will take good care of the lovable mutt when I'm away.

* * *

 **Glitz Mayfair, age 18  
** District 1 Male

"How do I look?" I ask my fifteen-year-old sister as I finish up my eyeliner.

"Great," Glamour says with a smile. "I don't get why you're getting ready for Reaping Day Brunch this early, though. We still have a couple of hours."

"I'm going to Ruby Albright's Reaping Day party," I explain happily, putting down the eyeliner pen. "Hey, can I have a flower crown?"

"Glitz, please don't tell me you're planning on wearing a flower crown to the Reaping," Glam says with a smile and an eye roll.

"Why not? It could be funny," I say, grinning.

"Seriously bro, don't do it," Glam says as she starts putting the makeup away. "Nobody's going to take you seriously."

"Alright, but can I at least wear a flower crown to Ruby's party for poops and giggles?" I ask, helping with the cleanup.

"I guess that's alright," Glam says, walking over to her bedside table. "Here," she says, tossing me her artificial flower crown. It's pretty, with well-made peach-colored flowers. I admire myself in the mirror as I put it on.

"Thanks sis, you're the bomb," I say, giving Glam a hug before walking out of her room.

"Glitz, you forgot your bag," Glam calls after me.

"Oh, oops," I say sheepishly as I go back into my sister's room and pick up the bag I left on her floor. "See you later at Reaping Day Brunch!"

"Of course, have fun at the party," Glam says with a smile.

I head down the stairs quietly. Hopefully my parents won't notice that I'm not where they want me to be. I sneak past the kitchen and open the door.

"Why aren't you at the Academy, Glitz?" Dad asks as I'm about to step out.

My heart drops into my stomach. My parents' high expectations are nothing new, but I wish they'd lay off me on my big day.

"I'm already really well-prepared," I say, turning around to face my father and trying to sound more confident than I feel. "I've been training for years and I worked really hard for the volunteer spot. So I think I should be able to let loose, just for today."

"Son, what are you wearing?" Mom says loudly as she joins my father at the foyer. "You can't go training looking like a girl."

"Well, I was going to go to Ruby Albright's party," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You can party once you're a Victor," Dad says sternly, raising his voice. I try not to flinch as he steps closer to me and whisks the flower crown off my head. "Glitz, I'm driving you to the Academy and you are to stay there until I say you can leave."

"But I just cleaned up," I protest, "and that flower crown is Glam's, give it back."

"I'll give it back to your sister, Glitz, and hopefully she doesn't keep lending her stuff to you," Mom says as Dad hands the flower crown to her. "I'm sorry your efforts in dressing up were wasted, but that wouldn't have happened if you were training like you were supposed to."

"Can't I have this day to myself?" I ask, frowning. My father grabs my shoulder and roughly guides me towards the garage, answering the question with his actions.

I sigh as I get into Dad's car. In the Arena, I'll have to be violent, just like my father. He's never hit me directly, but maybe I can still be like him, callously hurting weaker people without a second thought. I'm still looking forward to moving out, though. Once I'm a Victor I'll be free from my parents forever. No more high expectations, no more being looked down upon for liking to feel pretty, no more yelling from Dad.

And of course, the Victors' lifestyle would be awesome too.

* * *

 **Christian Evanescence, age 37  
** District 1 Escort

It's a District 1 tradition to have the two mentors chosen for the yearly Games to be an older Victor above the age of thirty alongside a younger Victor below the age of thirty. According to Strike Worthington, Victor of the 7th Games and Headmaster of the District 1 Career Academy, this system encourages cooperation and community as younger Victors learn how to mentor tributes from their older counterparts. In addition, Strike likes to have different Victors team up every year, to teach all the Victors to be able to work together.

It's a noble thought, but here I am thinking that District 1 should prioritize winning over learning. What use is Victors learning to work together if they can't bring a tribute home? If the chosen mentors truly don't get along, it jeopardizes the entire District's chances of winning.

It's happened before, and I have a feeling that it'll happen again this year with the chosen mentors. Platinum Stone, Victor of the 16th Games, and Amazon Blush, Victor of the 39th Games, are different as night and day. Amazon, short for Amazonite, is a young woman who's trying to take District 1 away from its convention of sending good-looking volunteers. She feels that One tributes have lately gotten to be more beauty than brains and brawn, and volunteered to prove that One was capable of more than just glam and glitz - in fact, she changed her name from Shimmer to Amazon to reflect her preferences.

Platinum, on the other hand, is a traditionalist. The middle-aged man won his Games by being good-looking as well as deadly, and helped solidify District 1's reputation as a District that sent beautiful, healthy, ready volunteers. He feels that District 1 having beautiful tributes has worked wonders so far, so there isn't really a point in changing things.

Lately there's been a divide in the Academy between the traditionalists who value beauty and the revolutionaries who don't care about it. I personally think that both sides have a point, and it isn't really my place to intervene. I'm just the escort, tasked with preparing tributes for the Hunger Games. But tributes from One are always as prepared as they can be anyways, so I often feel that I'm not very useful.

Crazily enough, part of me wants to move to a non-Career District. That way, I can really be helpful to the tributes, who usually have no idea of what's coming. On the other hand, I have a lot of fans here in One, and their adoration is something that I don't want to give up.

"But the best will be good-looking as well as strong," Platinum counters, wrapped up in an argument with Amazon. "That's Glitz. He's going to win this year and prove you wrong. Mayor Wonder thinks so as well. Don't you, Mayor?"

The Mayor of District 1, an old but bombastic woman named Diamond Wonder, has been watching the mentors' argument amusedly and now speaks up.

"It's hard to say who's going to come out on top between Morgan and Glitz," Mayor Wonder says, "but I have to side with Platinum here. Our system of sending Career volunteers who are good-looking as well as strong has worked pretty well for us so far. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, you know what they say."

Amazon sighs, slumping back in her chair. "I figured you wouldn't change your mind," she grumbles, "so I'll just focus on mentoring Morgan this year. I'm pretty confident that she'll prove to be a good choice on the Academy's part."

"Hey," I interject gently, "Amazon, Platinum, shouldn't you two focus on working together? Glitz and Morgan will be part of the same alliance, after all. It wouldn't make sense to get into a competition this early in the Games."

"Good point, Christian," Mayor Wonder says, nodding. "The two of you should focus on working together to bring home a Victor for One, first and foremost."

"I guess so," Platinum concedes slowly. "I'm going to try my best to have the Victor be from District 1 this year. But I still think it's going to be Glitz."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Amazon says immediately, and I sigh because we're right back where we started. Mayor Wonder seems annoyed as well, because she checks her watch and stands up from her seat to begin the Reaping.

The crowd cheers wildly as Mayor Wonder takes the stage. She's a beloved figure in One, and her yearly speeches always make everyone excited for what's to come.

"Well, that's it from me, for now," Mayor Wonder says, wrapping up her welcoming speech. "I'll turn things over to our wonderful escort. You know him as Roger Stevens a.k.a. Captain Panem, please welcome, the beloved movie star, Christian Evanescence!"

I get up and start waving at the crowd as I make my way to the microphone. I'm sporting a simple black-and-white tuxedo this year, but I always also make sure to wear something to remind viewers of my other job as an actor. This year, I'm wearing a red, white, and blue pin of Captain Panem's iconic shield.

"Roger Stevens!"

"Captain Panem!"

"We love you, Christian!"

I smile broadly, soaking up my fans' praises. I stand in the center of the stage and wait for the applause to die down a little before speaking into the microphone.

"I'm glad to be back," I say, and the crowd goes wild again. "Hey, I love you as much as you love me, and I'm glad you all are happy to see me." I can barely hear myself over the cheers, so I speak louder. "But we've gotta meet our tributes for this year so I'd appreciate it if you guys quieted down, just so we can get this Reaping on with."

The crowd respectfully quiets down, though it's still abuzz with excitement.

"Great, thanks," I say with a smile. "Alright, let's start with meeting our female tribute."

I walk over to the female Reaping Bowl and take some time in choosing a name, knowing that it won't matter but wanting to make the Reaping more exciting for the District. I walk back to the microphone and read the name.

"Alright, will Sapphire Sheen come to the stage!"

In District 2, the chosen volunteers usually announce their intent to volunteer immediately after the Reaped tribute's name is called. However, District 1 prefers to do things another way: the Reaped tribute gets onto the stage and enjoys their few minutes of fame before the escort asks for volunteers. That's when the tribute chosen by the Academy volunteers, making their way to the stage and shaking the hand of the lucky Reaped tribute. Oftentimes, the Reaped tribute visits the chosen volunteer after the Reaping as well.

This system allows the District to really get involved with and cheer for their representative. Of course, there are hiccups when the actual volunteer ends up not being the chosen volunteer, but the last time that happened was ten years ago, before I became an escort for One.

All eyes fall on Sapphire Sheen as she steps out of the section of fifteen-year-old girls. The Reaped tribute has tan skin that's darker than average for District 1. She's wearing a long, lovely green dress and clearly enjoying being in the spotlight. Sapphire climbs onto the stage and smiles at me, pulling a little notepad from her purse.

"Mr. Evanescence, can I have your autograph?" she asks sweetly.

The crowd ripples with laughter as I smile warmly and take the pen from the Reaped girl, signing her notepad.

"Today's your lucky day," I say to the girl, shaking her hand. I then turn back to the crowd.

"Are there any volunteers?" I ask.

"I volunteer as tribute!" a loud voice calls out.

There's Morgan, the chosen female volunteer this year. She emerges from the eighteen-year-old section, dressed nicely in a blue blouse, gray jeans, and pearl earrings. Morgan trots to the stage, smiling. She climbs onto the stage and shakes Sapphire's hand.

"What's your name?" I ask out of protocol, even though I already know it.

"I'm Morgan Chatelaine," the female volunteer says to the microphone I'm holding in front of her. "And I'm happy and honored to be your tribute for this year's Games. District 1, I won't let you down."

"Alright, let's give a round of applause for Morgan," I say, presenting the volunteer to the District. Sapphire, knowing her moment of fame is up, curtsies and hurries off the stage. The crowd applauds their female tribute as I smile and make my way to the boys' Reaping Bowl. I pull out a name.

"Will Seraphin Campari come to the stage!" I exclaim.

A slim but toned boy with bright, platinum blond hair emerges from the eighteen-year-old section. He trots to the stage proudly and waves to the crowd as he climbs the stairs.

"Hey Morgs, can you believe I was Reaped?" he says excitedly to Morgan as he shakes my hand.

"Yeah, still not cool with being called that," Morgan responds, though her smile betrays her true feelings.

"Are there any volunteers for Seraphin?" I ask.

"I volunteer!" a proud voice calls out. Glitz, the chosen male volunteer, worms his way out of the eighteen-year-old section and makes his way quickly to the stage, beaming and grinning all the way. He blows a few kisses as he climbs the steps, and the crowd cheers. Glitz hurriedly and happily shakes Seraphin's hand before smiling at me.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Glitz Mayfair, future Victor!" the volunteer says confidently as the Reaped tribute makes his way off the stage, making finger guns as he leaves. There's a brief burst of laughter before Glitz continues, "I'm going to be the very best like no one ever was, and I hope you all can support me throughout the Games. Thank you everyone!"

"Well, there you have it, District 1!" I announce proudly, presenting the volunteers to the crowd. "Your tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Morgan Chatelaine and Glitz Mayfair!"

* * *

 **Morgan Chatelaine, age 18  
** District 1 Female

I find myself frowning as my parents leave the Goodbye Room. It's pretty disheartening, having them argue in front of me when I'm about to go into the Hunger Games. But I can't let that distract me from my goal of winning. Besides, my friends are coming to visit me soon, and I don't want them to worry about me.

Sure enough, the door opens, and Iolanthe and Seraphin walk in with smiles on their faces. I smile back at my friends as they sit down next to me on the couch.

"Morgan!" Iolanthe exclaims, giving me a big hug. "You've finally done it!"

"I know," I say with a chuckle. "I'm really looking forward to representing District 1 in the Games."

"The Reaping was quite the trip, wasn't it, Morgs?" Seraphin asks with a smile. "Man, I'm so glad we're Careers because if we weren't I might be going into the Arena."

"Hey, you aren't bad at fighting and stuff," I say, grinning at Seraphin. "You may stand a bit of a chance in the Arena."

"A bit?" Seraphin says, feigning annoyance. "Have you seen my sword skills?"

"I've seen them, and I've beaten you," I say matter-of-factly. "Guess that's why I'm a chosen volunteer and you're not."

"Don't be mean, Morgan!" Seraphin exclaims, though he laughs, letting me know that I'm not being mean. "Hey, knock them out, okay? We'll be waiting for you back home."

"I can't thank you guys enough," I say honestly. "I mean, if it weren't for Iolanthe making it her personal mission to befriend me on my first day in the Academy, I'm not sure if I would even have any friends, and maybe I wouldn't be training so much that I'm picked to volunteer." I put an arm around Iolanthe and give her a quick squeeze. "So thank you, Iolanthe. I don't know what brought you to talk to the awkward girl, but it paid off, didn't it?"

"Hey, I was just trying to be friendly," Iolanthe says with a shrug. "But I'm so honored to be your friend, Morgan. I can't wait until you come home so I can be the best friend of a Victor!"

"I won't let you down," I say with a smile. "Hey guys, take care of Sparkles while I'm away, okay? She _loves_ people and she'd really enjoy playing ball with you two."

"Of course," Seraphin says, grinning. "Your mutt's in good hands while you're kicking ass in the Games. Don't worry about that."

Iolanthe, Seraphin, and I continue chatting until the Peacekeeper at the door lets us know that our time is almost up. Then Seraphin's face falls.

"Hey Morgan, I just want to wish you good luck," he says. "I know I'm being a bit of a downer right now but keep your head on your shoulders, okay?"

"Of course," I say, nodding. "I'll make sure to make rational decisions that will help me in the Games."

"And you should probably get along with Glitz until you absolutely can't anymore," Iolanthe advises. "I know this won't be a problem because the both of you are pretty chill, but just saying."

"I see what you mean," I say. "Don't worry, guys. I'll do my best and hopefully I'll see you in a few weeks."

Pretty soon, it's time for my friends to leave, and I say my final goodbyes to them. I hope Cartier visits next, but as time passes it becomes clear that Iolanthe and Seraphin were my last visitors. I feel a little disheartened that my crush didn't find it in him to wish me good luck, but I take comfort in the fact that I probably won't need it. After all, I'm well-trained in many different areas. All I have to do now is put my training to the test.

* * *

 **Glitz Mayfair, age 18  
** District 1 Male

The door closes behind Glam, and I let out a sigh. My sister deserves the world, and I'm more determined than ever to come home and let her live with me rather than our parents. Sure, Mother and Father have never been as hard on Glam as they are on me, but once I'm a Victor and out of my parents' house who knows how they'll treat her? I think it would be nice if Glam lived with my best friend Castle and I in the Victors' Village. I definitely want Castle to move in with me because his parents are dicks, and I think he'll be chill with Glam living with us as well.

I'm expecting Castle and Lumi to visit me next, and sure enough, the door opens and Illumination Barnaby walks in with her usual frown. Lumi is technically me and Castle's friend, but she has a lot of emotional issues and is hard to get along with. I try to cut her some slack because I don't want to be mean, but I'm glad that she's visiting separately from Castle so he and I won't have our moment spoiled by her whining.

"Today sucks," she complains, plopping down onto the couch next to me. "Reaping Day is supposed to be _fun_ but instead my mom decided to bitch at me again."

"Things aren't looking up, huh?" I say with a weary smile, not at all surprised that Lumi decided to complain about her own life rather than wish me luck.

"She complains so much, honestly," Lumi says, twirling the laurel crown she's carrying in her hand. "Like, everything is a huge issue to her and it's impossible to get along with her. Dad's not helping, either, he's really distant and he always says he's busy at work. I call bullshit, it's probably just that he doesn't like us." She groans and leans back in the couch. "You know what Mom said today? She asked me to clean my room. On _Reaping Day!_ I _told_ her that I'm eighteen she isn't the boss of me, but did she listen?"

"What's that you're holding?" I ask, trying to divert the subject away from Lumi's issues.

"Oh, I was going to give it to you as your token," Lumi says, giving me a rare smile as she hands the laurel crown in her hand to me. "I know how much you like them. I hope you win."

"Thanks," I say, taking the laurel crown and placing it on my head. "I hope I win too."

"Castle wanted to visit you separately," Lumi says, crossing her arms and frowning again. "I wonder what he's up to. Does he not want to hang out with me? The two of you don't have any secrets you're hiding from me, do you?"

"Of course not," I say quickly, deciding not to tell Lumi about how often Castle and I meet up without her to talk about how hard it is to get along with her. "I'm sure Castle has a good reason. You know him, he never does anything without a good reason."

"I guess so," Lumi says with a shrug. "I wish I was as smart as him. I feel so dumb sometimes. I'm still upset about that B-plus I got on our last math test, I mean I was one percent point away from an A."

Lumi continues complaining throughout the rest of her visit. By the time her time is up, I'm glad that I won't have to deal with her for at least a few weeks. Hopefully when I come home Castle and I can figure out how to end our friendship with Lumi peacefully. The thought makes me frown. I'd rather stay friends with Lumi, but we've tried helping her in the past, only for her to stubbornly refuse things like therapy. Maybe it's better if we just let her go.

The door opens again, and I smile, genuinely this time as Castle walks in. He's carrying an old antique key with a string attached to it.

"Hey nerd," I say with a grin as my best friend sits down next to me and pats me on the shoulder.

"Hey jock," Castle says, returning the grin. "Congrats on everything, Glitz. You're finally living the dream."

"Of course," I say, clapping Castle on the back. "And when I come home a Victor you can live with me in the Victors' Village. I'm not backing down on that promise."

"Thanks, bro," Castle says. He leans forward, as if to give me a hug, but changes his mind. "I would give you advice but we've been through that already, so I guess all I can do is wish you good luck and give you your token."

"Thanks," I say, "but Lumi already gave me this rad laurel crown." I look at the key Castle is carrying curiously. "What's that you've got, though?"

"Come on, you should take it," Castle says with a smile as he shoves the key into my hands. Then he grabs my face and kisses me hard on the lips.

My eyes widen, and my heart rate goes from zero to a hundred and I taste my best friend's lips. I've kissed plenty of people before, but this feels different. I don't want to lean in and make out with Castle, but I don't want to pull away either. All in all, I feel confused, but _good_.

Castle breaks the kiss abruptly and stands up quickly. "Good luck," he says, his face flushed as he bolts out of the room.

I'm left sitting there, stupefied as the door closes behind my best friend - or whatever he is now. I'm not sure about my feelings as a million questions race through my head, but one thing's for sure: I have to go home so I can tell Castle how I feel.

 _I'm definitely going to take the key instead of the crown, though,_ I think, removing the laurel crown Lumi gave me. _That way, maybe Castle can see me wearing it in the Games and know that I'm thinking of him._

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you** _ **krasnymak**_ **for submitting Morgan, our District 1 Female, and many thanks to** _ **CelticGames4**_ **for submitting Glitz, our District 1 Male! What do you think of Morgan, Glitz, and Christian? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **The story blog is ready! I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know how I did with it.**

 **realityhg . weebly . com (remember to remove the spaces)**

 **My target publish date for the next chapter is October 20th so that hopefully I can publish the chapter after that two weeks after on November 3rd, and then continue with a biweekly update schedule. I know I'm really bad at following my update schedule, so thanks for sticking with me throughout this story.**

 **I'll see you all hopefully on Saturday, October 20th in District 3!**


	10. District 3 Reaping

**A/N: Some very strong language from Caltryx.**

 **Hey, I was only two days late this time around! Hopefully next time I can actually be on time. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 **Caltryx Mortem, age 18  
** District 3 Female

Today is going to be shit.

I just feel it. No, I _know_ it.

Of course, every day is shit, but today is going to be the shittiest shit that was ever shat. It's my last Reaping Day, which should be a cause to celebrate, but that's only if I'm not Reaped. And knowing my luck, that's exactly what's going to happen.

I'm tempted to just stay in bed, but I have to get out of bed eventually anyways to get to the Reaping so what's the point? Even if life is shit, I'd rather not spend the rest of it in prison. So I groan, sitting up and blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

My tiny apartment is shit. Cracked walls, leaky faucets, you name it. I have the talent to freshen it up a little with some nice paintings or something, but I need to sell my creations to afford this shitty roof over my head so I'm stuck with shit. Also it's the only thing I have, and I'd rather live by myself than bring my bad luck to Grandmother.

I wash up and eat some slop for breakfast, and then pick up my Magic 8 Ball. Might as well confirm that today is going to suck.

"Magic 8 Ball, is today going to suck?" I ask.

 _IT IS CERTAIN,_ is the response when I flip it over.

"Magic 8 Ball, will my life ever get better?" I ask.

 _MY REPLY IS NO,_ I read.

"Magic 8 Ball, will I get Reaped today?" I say, asking my third and final question.

 _WITHOUT A DOUBT._

"FUCK!" I scream, putting the Magic 8 Ball down harshly. Whenever I ask it questions I always ask questions in groups of three, because that's a lucky number. But today it seems that I'm fucked. I probably jinxed myself with that last question, but it's too late now.

"This sucks," I mutter as I get to work on my projects. The rent isn't going to pay itself.

I feel a lot calmer as I get lost in my painting. I also have a few half-finished electronic trinkets lying around, but I decided early on that today I would work on my art as opposed to my gadgets. I mean, it's Reaping Day, and a gloomy painting is perfect for today's mood. My painting is dark and foreboding, with blacks and other dark colors forming a dreary scene. I never bother with yellow. Yellow is a disgustingly happy color, and there's nothing in my life that's happy so it's not worth wasting my money on it.

Around an hour into my work, I hear a knock on my apartment door. I curse internally to myself, but I make sure to keep quiet. If I do, they'll think no one is home and leave me alone. Unless it's Grandmother. I hear another series of knocks, which I ignore.

"Caltryx, honey, it's Grandmother," a voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Speak of the devil…

I continue to ignore the woman on the other side of the door. I don't want to interact with her. Grandmother knocks on the door again.

"I brought you some chicken noodle soup," Grandmother says.

Hmm. It's been a while since I had chicken noodle soup. But I still don't want to talk to anyone, so I stay quiet.

"Caltryx, I know you're in there," Grandmother says as she continues knocking on the door. "You wouldn't be out at this hour."

 _Fuck._

"Fine, I'm here," I yell, "but go away."

"I just came to see how you were doing, and give you some soup," Grandmother says.

I sigh, putting my brush down with a clatter and massaging my temples. I'm not that hungry because I had breakfast pretty recently. But chicken noodle soup does sound good. It's definitely better than cold milk and cereal.

I'm not going to admit that to Grandmother, though. The last thing I want is for her to think she's welcome here.

"Please stop being kind to me," I say. "I don't deserve it, and it's for your own good anyways."

Grandmother is silent for a few moments. Then she speaks up again in a voice that's kind and understanding, but defeated.

"I'll just leave the soup at the door, then," she says. "You'd better come get it before it gets cold."

"Will you go away please?" I ask.

"Alright, Caltryx."

I tiptoe to the door so I can make sure that she's gone. I wait for a few minutes, and then look through the peephole. I don't see Grandmother, so hopefully that means that she really decided to leave. I quickly inch open the front door of my apartment, grab the plastic soup container from the ground, and slam the door shut.

I sigh as I take a seat and examine the food Grandmother brought me. She's very thoughtful, having included a spoon and a napkin and everything.

I don't deserve this. But I drink the soup anyways, taking care to not do it too close to my projects. Considering my luck, I'm probably going to spill the soup all over my hard work.

I don't have anything better to do, so I take my time emptying the plastic container Grandmother gave me. It's good food - definitely better than anything I'm capable of cooking. Part of me is tempted to stop pushing Grandmother away so much, so I can have more of her cooking.

 _Who am I kidding?_ I think bitterly. _If I got close to Grandmother she'd probably die just like Calvina and Data._

When I finish the soup, I throw everything towards the trash can, not wanting to bother with getting up. The container and utensils clatter on the ground, though, so I'm left getting up from my seat and placing everything into the garbage.

My stomach full, I go back to my painting.

* * *

 **Andir Marx, age 18  
** District 3 Male

The streets of Three are pretty empty on the morning of the Reaping, but I'm sure that I can find some poor sap or another to mess with. Franck Delicos, my annoying fifteen-year-old neighbor, follows me and talks my ear off as I walk down the street, looking for someone to study and manipulate.

"Andir, are you going to volunteer for the Games today?" Franck asks for the hundredth time today.

"Of course," I respond. I've been planning to volunteer for the Games for a while now and I'm determined to go through with it.

I think about just leaving it like that, but then I realize that if I can't find anyone to mess with I might as well mess with Franck. It's not like I'll drive him away or anything, because the kid has stuck with me no matter what I've done. If I didn't know better I'd think he's enamored with me.

The thought makes me disgusted, but it's a good place to start.

"You seem awfully willing to talk to me, Franck," I say, sneering at the kid. "Are you going to ask me to marry you before the Reaping?"

"What? No!" Franck exclaims, looking mortified. "Where did that idea come from?"

"Well, you follow me around everywhere, and you always talk about how smart I am," I answer, my sneer turning into a real smile. "You in love with me or something?"

"I-I-I just think you're really cool!" Franck stammers. "Geez Andir, I don't know how you got that idea, but-"

"Nah man, I'm just messing with you," I laugh, ruffling Franck's hair. "You should've seen your face, so mortified."

"I thought you really meant it, Andir!" Franck says, laughing. "Man, you really made me freak out there."

"Mission accomplished, then," I say. I stop walking quickly when I spot a girl a bit younger than me coming up the street towards me. I grin.

"Stay here Franck, I'm going to have some fun," I declare, striding confidently up to the girl. The girl looks at me curiously.

"Are you sure you're not forgetting your daughter at home?" I ask the girl once I reach her.

"What are you talking about?" the girl says, taking a step back. I grin and take a step forward towards her, but I don't push it further.

"I'm sixteen, do I really look old enough to be a mom?" the girl asks, her brow furrowing.

"I thought you looked the motherly type," I say, gleeful that she's already getting angry. "Motherly, but forgetful. You sure you aren't forgetting that you even have a daughter?"

"Dude, knock it off," the girl says angrily, turning away and trying to leave the direction she was walking in.

"I'm just trying to be helpful here," I say, following her. "I'm a helpful person, you know. You seem really angry and impatient about something. Maybe you're angry that you forget about your daughter so much."

"Really, I don't have a daughter," the girl says, looking flustered. "Why are you following me?"

"Your daughter's in danger, I just know it," I say, acting serious but having a lot of fun.

"For the last time, I don't have a daughter, now please leave me alone," the girl says, walking faster. I chase after her a bit, but then decide to let her go. She isn't worth my time, and besides I'm not malicious enough to really hurt someone. Most of the time, that is. When I'm in the Hunger Games I know I'll have to do whatever I can to bring the other tributes down. And I'm willing to use my words to hurt them, if that means I can win and impress Father.

I walk back to Franck, who's looking at me with awe.

"Andir, that was awesome!" he exclaims, jumping up and down. "The way you made her all flustered with your words was super cool. Hey, are you planning on doing that in the Arena?"

"Doing what?" I ask.

"Your whole thing of messing with people," Franck responds. "What was it you said it was? Psychic warfare? I think it's-"

"Psychological warfare, Franck," I say. "It's far too complex for someone like you."

"Of course!" Franck exclaims. "I wish I was as smart as you, Andir. I know you can win the Hunger Games so your dad can pay attention to you. Hey, when you're a Victor can I have some of your money so I can buy a lot of cool stuff? I'd love to have a dog, or a parrot, or a horse. Do you think a horse would be a good pet? Man, it'd be great to just ride it around Three, wouldn't it? Hey, do you think people ride horses everywhere in Ten?"

I smile to myself as I continue walking and let Franck chatter meaninglessly. Maybe I'll get the kid a horse with my Victor money. He's a total ditz, but at least he puts up with me.

I wonder briefly whether volunteering for the Hunger Games is worth it. But I quickly push the thought aside. Father has raised me on his own ever since Mother died giving birth to me, but he never gave me any attention or respect, always busy with one job or another. He's one of the brightest programming minds in Three, but that doesn't excuse him never paying attention to me. He respects Digit Keyes though, and admires her Games strategy of tormenting her fellow tributes. If I want Father to notice me, I have to be a Victor, just like her.

And I know I have the ability to do just that.

* * *

 **Pixie Diaz, age 32  
** District 3 Escort

"Tecna, honey, listen to me," Digit Keyes, Victor of the 30th Games, says to Tecna Watson, Victor of the 24th. "No normal mentor indulges in her addiction while there's a Reaping going on. Can you please leave your laptop in Three? There's no way you can help your tribute if you're stuck on there coding all day."

"You know that if I left my laptop in Three I'll just code on P.C.'s computer," Tecna says, turning back to her laptop, which she brings to the Reaping every year. "And I don't have an addiction. I'm not like Sonata from Six, doing morphling all day."

"Addictions aren't always chemical, Tecna, I've told you this before," Digit says unhappily. "You clearly have a problem with coding, doing it so much that you barely get any sleep and your house is a mess. Please, just step away from your laptop for a few hours. You'll feel better."

"No," Tecna says simply, not looking up from her furious typing.

I sigh unhappily as I listen to the two women talk, Digit pestering Tecna a lot more than she should. I don't intervene, because I did a few years ago but quickly gave up on trying to get Tecna and Digit to be normal human beings.

Tecna was the first tribute I brought home, doing so on my first year of escorting for Three at age eighteen. She won her Games at the young age of fifteen and went through a lot of trauma, which is why after the Games she started shutting herself in her room coding nonstop. Copper Jones, Victor of the 3rd Games, was a great father figure to Tecna and helped her heal a lot, but after he died of a stroke three years ago Tecna went right back to her old ways. Digit tries to help, but she's so much of a goody two-shoes that it's irritating and I can understand why Tecna is pushing Digit away.

I wish I could escort for a District where the Victors are functional. Instead, I'm stuck in Three, where one of the Victors is freaking dead and the two living Victors are both insufferable in one way or another.

Sometimes I wish I could change my name, but I love my parents too much to go through with it. It's because of my unique moniker that even though I've brought two Victors home I'm still stuck in District 3, the unfortunate urban dump sandwiched between two beautiful places that send volunteers that come back from the Games in one piece. I don't complain about my position, though. Someone has to be the District 3 Escort, and if I'm not there to teach my tributes manners and help one of the get home the District will be working with someone far less competent.

"Pixie, the dinner offer is still on the table," the Mayor of District 3, a guy in his forties named Lawson Jobs, says to me from his seat next to me with a wink and a smile. I'm pulled out of my thoughts as I suppress the urge to vomit.

Not only does Three have the least functional Victors, their Mayor is a total sleazeball. He flirts with me when he's married with three kids, for God's sake!

"Eat dick, you bastard," I growl at Mayor Jobs, shooting him a death glare.

"Whoa, honey, you're a feisty one," Mayor Jobs says, holding up his hands and smiling in a sleazy manner. "I like it."

"Look, sleazeball, I'm a Capitolite and you're not, so you'd better shut your trap," I snap at the Mayor, crossing my arms.

"I swear, darling, I'm a really nice guy if you get to know me," Mayor Jobs says, leaning closer to me. I look to Tecna and Digit for help, and thankfully Digit stops bothering Tecna for a moment to glare at the Mayor. Mayor Jobs leans back, holding up his hands in defeat, and I sigh heavily. Why can't the Mayor listen to me for once?

Oh well, the show must go on. I smooth my orange pixie cut as Mayor Jobs finally gets up from his seat - good riddance - and starts his speech, signaling the beginning of this year's Reaping. I get ready to put on a good show, because as long as I'm stuck in District 3 I might as well make the Reaping as entertaining as possible for everyone.

"And now, I'll turn things over to our escort, the lovely, beautiful, sexy, and wonderful Pixie Diaz!"

There's a smattering of polite applause as I bolt upright from my seat and dash to the microphone, trying to avoid Mayor Jobs as much as possible. I smile at the District I hate, showing off bright orange braces. I don't need them to correct my teeth - rather, they're there for aesthetic.

Since I'm stuck in Three for the foreseeable future I might as well embrace the whole technology aspect of that District. I've dyed my skin black to represent a turned-off screen, and every year I tattoo differently colored digits onto my skin. This year, the numbers tattooed onto my skin are orange, and so is my pixie cut and sparkling high heels. My knee-length dress, which is patterned with code, is orange as well.

I spend quite a bit of time chattering about how much of an honor it is for me to escort for Three, and how much of an honor it should be for the District to have an opportunity to participate in this year's Games. As usual, Three is deathly silent as my attempts to entertain everyone fall flat. I keep smiling, though, because even if the District isn't having fun I'd better keep up my enthusiasm for Capitol audiences.

"Since we started with the girls last year, let's start with the boys this time around," I say, pretending to be excited to be here. I walk primly to the boys' Reaping Bowl and put on a good show in choosing a name. I skip back to the microphone as I open up the slip of paper.

"Will Cathode Bishop please come to the stage?" I say in a singsong voice.

"I volunteer as tribute!" a voice sounds.

This catches me off-guard. There are never volunteers in Three, and throughout my fourteen years of escorting for this dumb District nobody has been brave enough to volunteer for the Games. I grin as I gather myself, realizing that I've finally lucked out. My male tribute this year will be a fighter.

The tribute steps calmly out of the section of eighteen-year-old boys, walking towards the stage with a stone-faced expression. I study the volunteer carefully. He's very tall and thin, almost hawk-like, with pale skin and short brown hair. He definitely knows what he's doing. I smile as the boy reaches the stage and climbs the steps.

"What's your name?" I ask, holding the microphone to the boy.

"Andir Marx," the volunteer replies.

"Well, isn't this exciting?" I ask, bouncing up and down. "We finally have a volunteer! Everyone give a round of applause for your brave tribute, Andir!"

There's a half-hearted round of applause, and I sigh at the District's lack of enthusiasm.

"I guess it's time to move on to the girls, then," I say, taking some time to draw a slip from the girls' bowl.

My eyes widen as I see the name on the slip. Even I'm not this cruel, but drawing a new name is against the rules, so I walk to the microphone and read out the name I see.

"Caltryx Mortem!"

"FUCK!" a voice screams from the eighteen-year-old section. I'm quickly able to find the source of the voice because I've heard it before.

I Reaped Caltryx Mortem when she was a twelve-year-old, but her sixteen-year-old sister, Calvina Mortem, volunteered to save her. Calvina died in the 38th Games despite her best efforts, but her death was in vain because four years later Caltryx Mortem, now sixteen years old, was drawn from the Reaping Bowl again. Her girlfriend volunteered to save her, only to die in the 42nd Hunger Games.

This is Caltryx's third time being Reaped. I whistle softly to myself. Anyone with that amount of bad luck has got to be cursed.

"No one volunteer for me!" Caltryx screeches as she stomps towards the stage angrily. "I'm fucking cursed! The world hates me! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I'm silent as Caltryx reaches the stage and climbs the steps loudly. I decide to just say the required words so as not to make the Reaped girl even more livid.

"District 3, your female tribute, Caltryx Mortem," I say, trying to ignore Caltryx's rage. "District 3, presenting, your two tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Andir Marx and Caltryx Mortem. Tributes, shake hands."

I take a step back as Caltryx and Andir shake hands, Caltryx's eyes burning with rage and Andir studying his District Partner coolly. I'm convinced that Caltryx is a lost cause, but maybe Andir stands a chance. But I'm determined to do my job as an escort and guide them both through the Capitol.

* * *

 **Caltryx Mortem, age 18  
** District 3 Female

Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fuck my shitty luck and my shitty life. I'm fucking cursed - that's the only fucking explanation for me being Reaped _three_ times.

I stomp angrily around the Goodbye Room, stopping only to punch the plush pillows on the couches. I'm fucking _pissed_. What have I ever done to deserve this fate? I've been law-abiding and good to people my whole life, but it seems that no matter what I do my life sucks. Sure, I may push everyone away, but that's only because I fucking care about them and don't want them to have bad luck because of me!

I know I'm doomed to have bad luck forever, though. As I continue stomping around the room, I think about my unlucky life that I know won't get better anytime soon. When I was eight years old my father died, electrocuted during a thunderstorm while tinkering with a computer. When I was ten years old my grandfather died of a stroke. Things only got worse from there during the following years, with me being Reaped twice, losing my sister and my girlfriend in the process, and my mother dying of breast cancer.

Needless to say, it didn't take long for me to become convinced that I'm bad luck.

I don't expect anyone to visit me. I don't _want_ anyone to visit me. I don't love anyone, and I don't have any friends. Everyone close to me fucking dies so I've come to the conclusion that it's best if I just stayed away from everyone.

But the door to the room opens, and Grandmother walks in anyways.

"Go away, Grandmother," I say harshly.

"Caltryx-"

" _Go away!_ "

"Do your best," she says quickly, tossing something small and flimsy towards my direction before shutting the door behind her.

Thank goodness Grandmother didn't push it. At least she knows better than to wish me good luck. Still, I'm curious about what she tossed towards me. I look towards where the object landed and spot a four-leaf clover with one of its leaves torn off. It must have come off while it was being thrown.

Of course.

I crush the broken four-leaf clover under my foot. The last thing I need in the Games is _more_ bad luck.

But knowing me, that's exactly what's going to happen.

Fuck everything.

* * *

 **Andir Marx, age 18  
** District 3 Male

I sit quietly in the Goodbye Room, staring at a random point in space as I wait for Father. Franck just left after wishing me luck in the Games and mindlessly chattering, as always. I was very tempted to tell Franck to shut up, but I was feeling merciful so I thought I might as well let the kid have his fun.

I hope Father shows up soon. I can't help but worry that he won't visit me. But I volunteered for the Hunger Games. He _has_ to visit me.

The door opens, and I perk up, hoping that it's Father. I smile when my dad walks into the room, the door closing behind him.

"Hey Father," I say.

"I need to do some programming work soon," Father says, his face neutral.

I frown as I study him. He doesn't seem to be having any emotion. I can't believe this. His son just volunteered for the Hunger Games without him knowing beforehand, so he has to at least feel surprised. He isn't sad or upset, either, which makes me angry. Father has never paid any attention to me, but how can he just not care that I'm going into the Hunger Games?

"Can't you stay a bit?" I ask. "I mean, I just volunteered for the Hunger Games. Don't you care enough about your own son to send him off?"

"You're making a big mistake, Andir," Father says, turning and opening the door.

"Father, wait!" I exclaim, standing up, but the door closes behind him and he's gone.

I sigh angrily as I plop down into the couch. I can't believe this. But I can't stay upset. I'll have to start strategizing so I can win the Games.

I think about how Father admires the psychological warfare strategy Digit Keyes used in her Games. Digit is different now, but it's clear that Father has respect for the way the Victor won - tormenting people by getting in their heads. I've always been observant and good at messing with people, so I'm confident that I can win the way Digit won.

I just need to do the actual winning. Father may not notice me now, but once I'm a Victor he will finally pay attention to me.

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to** _ **paperairline**_ **for submitting Caltryx, our District 3 Female, and thank you** _ **IciclePower33**_ **for submitting Andir, our District 3 Male! What do you think of Caltryx, Andir, and Pixie? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **I'll see you all hopefully on Saturday, November 3rd in District 7!**


	11. District 7 Reaping

**A/N: Sorry I'm late again. I don't really have an excuse this time, but I hope you enjoy the chapter nevertheless.**

* * *

 **Luca Springe, age 12  
** District 7 Male

Most people in District 7 take Reaping Day off from their jobs, but not me. I work at the Elmwood Wildlife Center, a moderately sized zoo that caters to visiting Capitolites who are curious about the animals native to the woods of Seven. Trees don't need people taking care of them every day, but animals do, so workers here at the Center have shifts every day of the year.

The Wildlife Center is my favorite place in the whole world. I've been earning money from my job here since I was eight, which is young to work in District 7 but I had to figure out some way to help keep my family afloat. Thankfully the Center was near home, they were willing to hire me, and I was willing to work. But the work isn't bad at all. When I'm here, taking care of the animals or just admiring them, I feel at home. Animals, after all, don't think you're weird if you're quiet or don't talk to people much. That's the main reason why I love animals so much.

"Hello, Gray," I say softly as I open the door to the old Great Horned Owl's enclosure. It's a bit difficult because I'm carrying a broom and a dustpan as well as Gray's food, but I manage. Our Great Horned Owl is called that firstly because his feathers are grayer than the feathers of most Great Horned Owls, secondly because he has a subdued personality, and thirdly because he's a very old bird. He was already a senior citizen when I started working here four years ago, but despite his age he eats well.

I close the door behind me as I place the tray of meat I'm carrying on the feeding perch. Gray doesn't stir from his perch, but his yellow eyes watch me as I go about sweeping up the enclosure. We're silent, but this suits us perfectly.

I know that Gray doesn't like to eat when people cleaning up his space, so I quickly finish up my task and leave the old bird to his meal.

 _Goodbye for now, Gray,_ I think as I step outside the enclosure, broom and dustpan in my hands. I close the door behind me, dump the trash into a nearby trash can, and stow the broom and dustpan into the supply closet where I got them. Then I walk back to Headquarters. I'm pretty sure my shift is almost over, and I'll have to head home soon to get ready for my first Reaping.

The thought of the Reaping terrifies me. It's my first year of being eligible for the Hunger Games, and I'm not ready to die. I can't believe that when I was younger I actually thought the Games could be a way for me to escape to the lavish Capitol, away from the teasing and scorn I deal with almost every day in Seven. I soon realized that the Hunger Games were indeed a way to escape - but with death.

I don't want to die.

All the calm I felt with Gray disappears, and I'm breathing quickly as I enter Headquarters. What if I'm Reaped? Sure, it's my first year, but twelve-year-olds have gotten Reaped before. I've taken tesserae for myself, my younger brother Malcolm, and my parents. Claiming the rations on my twelfth birthday was a terrifying experience - I had to go to a Justice Outpost and everything - and I don't want to think about whether the tesserae will lead to my doom.

And what will the Reaping be like? I've watched a few on television but I've never had to leave my family to stand with other kids my age. And when I do that, will the other boys tease me? I've been teased and left out all my life, mostly because I'm quiet and my parents were involved in something bad where a lot of people said they did bad things. That's why I'd rather spend time with animals.

I'm scared.

I've been scared of many things my whole life. My parents have often encouraged me to be brave and stand up for what I believe in. But how can I do that in the Hunger Games, where everyone but one person has to die?

I want to stay here and not go to the Reaping. But I know I can't. Mom said that if I didn't show up at the Reaping I'd go to jail. Since I don't want that to happen, I make my way quickly to Headquarters and sign out. I pass another zookeeper on the way out of the Center, but I duck my head and keep walking. I'm scared of talking to people, and everyone probably hates me anyways because of what happened with my parents.

I wave a little goodbye to the Wildlife Center before starting home, fear over the Reaping prickling at my skin.

* * *

 **Ruby Rodriguez, age 12  
** District 7 Female

Having two Peacekeepers as parents means that meals are usually no-frills, filling but not fancy. Not today, however. Today is the day I volunteer for the Hunger Games.

I take another bite out of the fancy cake Mom and Dad have bought for me for my big day. It tastes delicious, and even though I didn't spend that much time admiring its looks - only girly girls do admire the looks of something - I did appreciate that it was my favorite color, red.

"This is the best," I say with my mouth full, grinning widely as I chew the cake. "Thanks Mom and Dad!"

"Anything for our future Victor on the day she volunteers," Dad says, smiling back. "Eat up, Ruby! You've worked so hard in your training and you deserve it."

"Rosie, would you like some more cake?" I ask my twin sister, who is finishing up her slice.

"No, it's okay," Rosie says, dabbing at her shirt with a napkin. "Ugh, I got frosting all over my dress."

"Who cares?" I ask, flicking my fork so that a glob of frosting lands on Rosie's face. Rosie yelps. I laugh and continue, "Us girls shouldn't have to care about looking good enough when we know we _are_ good enough! We need to stop acting dainty and prissy and shatter all the negative stereotypes people have about women!"

"Ruby, I really like this dress," Rosie says with a frown. I frown as well when I realize I've hurt my only friend. Rosie may be the epitome of everything girly - everything I'm not - but she's still my twin sister.

"Here, lemme help," I declare loudly as I stand up, grab a paper towel, and run it under the tap. I carry the dripping paper towel back to the kitchen table and wipe it on Rosie's stain.

"Ruby, that's way too much water!" Rosie yelps.

"Sorry!" I say quickly as I rush to the sink, wring out the paper towel a bit, and run back to Rosie. I hand her the now-damp paper towel, and she takes it from me, smiling at me.

"You know, Ruby, you really are quite caring under all that boldness," she says, gently dabbing the stain on her dress. "Are you sure you're going to volunteer for the Games today?"

"Of course she is!" Mom cuts in, her eyes wide. "Ruby's the strongest and she's going to win."

"Yeah!" I exclaim with a grin as I walk back to my seat and shove the last bits of the cake into my mouth. "I'm the best of the best and nobody can defeat me."

"Exactly," Dad adds. "I don't know what you're unsure about, Rosie."

"I hope you win, Ruby," Rosie mumbles quietly. "I'll miss you when you're gone."

"Don't worry sis, I'll be back before you know it," I say as I stand up and drop the fork with a clatter. "Mom, let's go into the woods and train! I'm not going to stop training just because it's Reaping Day."

"That's the spirit, future Victor," Mom says warmly, smiling as she stands up. We bid a quick farewell to Dad and Rosie, telling them that we'll be back in time to get ready for the Reaping, and head through the back door into our spacious backyard where I train every day. Our backyard blends pretty nicely into a forest, and both the yard and the woods are littered with training supplies.

I don't bother changing because I'm already in athletic wear. I sprint my usual two hundred meters to the shed where we keep our training gear and grab my trusty axe as Mom busies herself with getting the weights and other equipment ready. I do a few practice swings of the axe, even throwing it so that it sticks hard into the bullseye of the makeshift target Mom made. I smile.

"Mom," I say as I retrieve my axe, "If we had stayed in One instead of moving to Seven, do you think I would've been selected as the chosen volunteer?"

"Of course, Ruby," Mom says with a smile as she arranges the weights. "It's not a matter of whether, but when. You're so fierce and determined. I think you're good enough to get chosen at fourteen, or even younger."

"But since I'm in Seven I get to volunteer early and no one will stop me!" I exclaim happily as I jog around the yard. "I'm so excited for the Games. I'll get to be Panem's youngest Victor, and I'll be rich and famous!"

"Let's make sure you win first," Mom says as she finishes setting up the weights and cones in the yard. "Ruby, I want to see you hold that jog for thirty minutes, and then I want you to do some weightlifting. After that we'll work on your agility. We don't have much time before the Reaping, especially since Dad and I have some Peacekeeper duties to attend to, but I want to make sure you're as fit as possible."

"Got it, Mom!" I chirp brightly as I continue to jog with axe in hand.

Mom gives me a thumbs-up. "Do you know where to go and what to do when we get to our Reaping Area?" she asks.

"Duh!" I exclaim. "As soon as the escort calls a girl's name, I raise my hand and yell, 'I volunteer as tribute!'"

"I meant before that," Mom says with a chuckle. "You can take care of Rosie without Dad and I, right?"

"Of course," I say, giving Mom a salute. "I'll make sure Rosie's in the right place, and I'll be standing in the right place too."

"That's the spirit, Ruby," Mom says, smiling at me.

I smile back and focus on my running. I know I'm the greatest. Nothing can stand in my path to victory.

* * *

 **Fitzwilliam Montague, age 18  
** District 7 Escort

I bounce my leg up and down as I smile broadly and wait for the Reaping to start. I still can't believe my amazing luck. President Salvato could've moved any of the other Districts' escorts to Seven when Bella Notte retired after bringing home Natsuki Barkley last year. But instead he opted to hire me, a teenager with his escort training just completed.

"We can use a fresh young face among the escorts for the annual Games," the President had said in his letter to me.

I hope I do a good job. I've wanted to be part of the Hunger Games forever, and my parents told me that with my enthusiasm and helpfulness being an escort was the best way for me to make that happen. As soon as I could, I began my escort training, and here I am, living the dream. I can't wait to meet my first tributes. It's unfortunate that at least one of them has to die, but that's just the way things are. Still, I've promised everyone that even though it's my first year, I'm going to be the best escort I can possibly be.

"Does it get better the more you do it?" Natsuki Barkley, last year's Victor, asks Spring Forrester nervously. Spring won the 15th Games and offered to mentor alongside Natsuki this year - firstly because the forty-seven-year-old has a lot of experience and secondly because Spring was Natsuki's mentor during the latter's Games.

"It's different for everyone," Spring says, laying a comforting hand on Natsuki's shoulder. "Different Victors cope with being a mentor in different ways. I know it's going to be tough, Nat, but you won't be alone through this."

"I'm new too," I say, trying to be helpful. Natsuki glares at me, and I say quickly, "I know I'm a Capitolite and you may not trust me, but I'm still going to try my best for our tributes this year."

"You'd better," Natsuki huffs, crossing her arms. "Just because you're new and from the Capitol doesn't give you an excuse to be rude or slack off."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I say, using my finger to make a crossing motion over my chest.

"Natsuki, perhaps you could show a bit more respect to our escort?" Mayor Birch says primly from her seat next to me. "It's always good for PR if a District's Games team gets along."

"What did I do?" Natsuki squeaks, her arms still crossed but her eyes widening.

"Maybe just think twice about what you say before saying it," Mayor Birch answers bluntly, narrowing her eyes at Natsuki. "I thought we've been over this."

"With all due respect, Mayor Birch, this is Natsuki's first year as a mentor," Spring says, gently but firmly. "She's under a lot of pressure so maybe we should all cut her some slack." She smiles. "Don't worry, I'll make sure everything runs smoothly this year."

"You'd better," Mayor Birch responds, her eyes narrowing. She leans back in her chair and murmurs a bit loudly, "Two eighteen-year-olds in a single District team? What were they thinking?"

"Well, President Salvato said he could use a fresh young face in among the escorts," I say.

"I _know_ that, I just don't think it was a good idea to hire you this early, Fitzwilliam," Mayor Birch says. "But I'm not the President."

"I'll do my best, I swear," I say. "I know I'm young but I hope I'll do well enough to make you realize that President Salvato was right in hiring me, Mayor Birch."

"We'll see about that," the Mayor murmurs. She glances at her watch, and then stands up.

"Well, it's showtime, Fitzwilliam," Mayor Birch sighs. "Just don't screw it up."

I give Mayor Birch a smile and a salute as she walks to the center of the stage set up in the District Hub. Since Seven is so large, the Reaping takes place in several Reaping Areas, with the escort, mayor, mentors, and other officials conducting the ceremony from the District Hub. Stages, screens, and Peacekeepers are set up in the other Reaping Areas, however, and if your name is called you are expected to get onto the stage no matter which Reaping Area you are in. After the Reaping, cars from the Capitol drive the Reaped tributes and their loved ones to the District Hub for Goodbyes, if needed.

Mayor Birch gives a speech about the Hunger Games, states District 7's four Victors, and introduces Natsuki and Spring before turning things over to me. I have to say that, even though she has a sour personality and is difficult to deal with, Emerald Birch is an effective mayor who does her job well.

I stand up, smooth out my outfit, and smile at the District. I can barely contain my excitement for my new job. I've spent so much time preparing for this - training for the job, reading about the District, and picking my outfit - that I can't afford to screw up.

It took me a while to decide what to wear to my very first Reaping as District 7 Escort, but eventually I went with a style that expressed my Capitol flair but wasn't too over-the-top. I've never altered my skin aside from getting tattoos, but they weren't in conspicuous places anyways so I didn't have them removed. I had my maroon-and-gold hair turned back to its natural dark brown shade, but I kept the aforementioned colors as highlights. As for clothes, I'm sporting a rose gold tuxedo along with a pair of ornate red glasses tinted with pink. I don't need the glasses to correct my vision, but when you're like me and you see the world through rose-colored glasses why not have a little fun while you're at it?

"Welcome, District 7, to the Reaping for the Forty-fourth Annual Hunger Games!" I exclaim proudly. "As you may notice already, I'm your new escort this year, after the retirement of the lovely Bella Notte. My name is Fitzwilliam Montague, and I may be just eighteen years old, but I promise I'll do my best to serve you. I swear I'll do everything in my power to bring home another Victory this year. How do back-to-back victors sound, everyone?"

The crowd gives a half-hearted applause, and I frown. I've heard that the Outer Districts are always less enthusiastic about the Hunger Games than One and Two, but I wasn't expecting my debut to be like this.

Oh well, the show must go on. I adjust my glasses and continue, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor! Now, let's meet our tributes, I don't want to keep everyone waiting. First, let's meet our boy!"

I skip and twirl over to the male Reaping Bowl just as I remember that traditionally the girls are drawn before the boys. Ah well, it's too late to go back now. I pluck out a name and skip back to the microphone. I hear a few laughs, and I smile. At least _some_ people are enjoying themselves.

"Will Luca Springe please come to the stage!" I call out, hoping that I pronounced the name right.

I'm utterly confused when moments pass and the crowd in the District Hub is motionless. Then I notice movement on a few of the screens set up in the area.

 _Aha!_ I think. _Silly me. He's from one of the other Reaping Areas._

By the time I can focus on the Reaped tribute, a pair of Peacekeepers has already reached him and are escorting the small, terrified-looking boy towards the stage. The boy, Luca, stares straight ahead with wide green eyes as he walks. When he reaches the stage, he still looks utterly shocked.

"Are there any volunteers for Luca?" I ask, hoping that a stronger tribute will take the little boy's place. This time, I make sure to watch every screen for movements. But no one volunteers - not that I expected anyone to - so I flash the cameras a smile and move on to the girls. I skip over to the female Reaping Bowl, pluck out a name exuberantly, and skip back to the microphone. I open the slip of paper.

"Ashlyn Woodson!" I exclaim into the microphone.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" a loud, high-pitched voice yells from a different Reaping Area than Luca's. My eyes widen in surprise as a short but muscular twelve-year-old with dark hair rushes from the back of the crowd all the way to the stage. She climbs the steps confidently and quickly, and wastes no time in screaming into the microphone that her name is Ruby Rodriguez and she is going to be a Victor.

"Alright Ruby, it's a pleasure to meet you," I say awkwardly, still thrown for a loop that such a young tribute would volunteer on my very first year of escorting. However, I manage an exuberant smile as I present my first pair of tributes to the District.

"District 7, your tributes, Luca Springe and Ruby Rodriguez!" I announce. "Tributes, shake-" I almost ask them to shake hands before realizing that they're in different Reaping Areas and it would be impossible for them to do that. I smile sheepishly as a few snickers ring throughout the District.

"Back to you, Mayor!" I exclaim, pirouetting and hurrying back to my seat.

* * *

 **Luca Springe, age 12  
** District 7 Male

I cry silently to myself as I sit in the fancy room. I barely notice how luxurious everything around me is, because I just want to go home. What just happened? Why am I here? What's going to happen next?

I'm scared.

I'm shaking and curled into a ball. This is the worst day of my life. I don't want to go to the Capitol - maybe I wanted to as a kid, but I don't want to go into the Hunger Games. I don't want to leave home. I don't want to die. I know I can't win. There's no way I can come home. I'm just _scared_.

The door opens quickly, and I yelp, but I relax a little when I realize that it's just my family. Mom, Dad, and Malcolm rush forward and bury me in a big hug.

"Oh, my little Luca," Dad says, crying. This isn't the first time I've seen him cry, but something is different about the way he is now - it's like it's the end of the world for him. And I can see why, because I'm about to die.

"Luca, honey, we love you and we'll miss you so much," Mom says, kissing me on the cheek and squeezing me tightly. "But please, please, be brave."

"I-I'll try," I stammer, wiping away my tears. "I-I'm not brave, but I love you, Mom, so I'll try my best to be brave."

"Will you promise to try?" Dad asks, holding my face in his hands. "I know you're little, but you're so fast, and smart… please, Luca, be brave."

"Why are you asking him to be brave?" Malcolm asks. "He's as brave as a mouse in front of a cat."

"Malcolm, please," Dad says sternly, grabbing my eight-year-old brother's shoulders and guiding him to sit down on a seat across from the couch I'm sitting on. "If you can't respectfully send off your brother when he's going into the Hunger Games, please stay out of this."

"No," Malcolm says stubbornly, folding his arms.

"Malcolm, Luca might not come back," Mom says, her eyes wide. She turns back to me, wiping her tears away. "I'm sorry about your brother. I hope he grows up soon. Luca, we don't have much time. Please, make allies."

"Allies?" I ask, my eyes wide. "So I have to talk to people?"

"Please, please be brave, son," Mom sobs, hugging me tightly. "They'll help you get through the Games. Learn a weapon, too. Any weapon."

"Don't forget the survival skills, though," Dad frets.

Malcolm has quieted down, and now he's sitting and frowning as Mom and Dad gives me advice on what to do. I'm starting to get a little overwhelmed when the door opens and a Peacekeeper informs us that we have a minute left.

"Just please be brave, Luca," Mom says, giving me a quick hug before standing up and kissing my forehead. "You can do this."

"You can," Dad affirms, standing up as well and giving me a hug. "Be brave."

"We have to go now," Mom says sadly. "Come on, Malcolm, say goodbye to Luca."

"Bye Luca, have fun," Malcolm says. Mom and Dad's eyes go wide, and Dad drags my little brother out the door. Mom sighs and follows them, opening the door that just closed behind them.

"Wait, Mom, don't go!" I yell, standing up and rushing forward to hug my mother. "I'm scared."

"I really do have to go," Mom says sadly. "Please be brave, Luca." She kissed my hair. When I don't budge, she says, "Luca, they'll make me leave if I don't leave now."

"O-okay," I say, letting go of my mother. She smiles sadly at me, and the door closes behind her.

I'm alone now, and my parents' words echo in my ears.

 _Be brave, Luca._

How can I be brave when I'm about to die?

* * *

 **Ruby Rodriguez, age 12  
** District 7 Female

I do jumping jacks in the Goodbye Room, my heart pumping wildly as I grin from ear to ear. I've finally done it! I've volunteered for the Hunger Games! Now I just have to become Victor, and I can really and truly be the best.

 _Oh, man, I can't wait to kill everyone and win,_ I think happily as I jog around the room. Killing isn't something I'm afraid of. Mom has told me that some Career volunteers end up losing their shot at fame and glory because they hesitate to take a life, but I know that won't be a problem for me. Nothing can stand in my way. I'm willing to go go go and do whatever it takes for victory.

The door to the Goodbye Room opens, and my family rushes in. Mom and Dad envelop me in a tight hug, and Rosie hangs back a little but still smiles.

"Ruby, you did it!" Mom exclaims happily. "You're in the Games!"

"Go knock them dead, future Victor," Dad says, letting go of me and grinning at me. "Literally."

"Ruby, I don't understand why you're so into this," Rosie says slowly, "but I guess as long as it makes you happy, you do you."

"Of course!" I exclaim, punching Rosie lightly on the shoulder. Rosie grimaces, but I pay her no heed. "Why wouldn't I be into the Games? I've trained! I'm the best! I'm going to win and bring glory to us all!" I sigh. "I wish you were more into training, Rosie. It would be nice to have a sparring buddy."

"I'd rather not get my head chopped off by one of your axes, thanks," Rosie says, chuckling as she steps forward and gives me a hug. "Good luck, okay sis? I really do hope you win."

"You don't have to hope," I say with a grin. "I _know_ I'll be the Victor of the 44th Annual Hunger Games."

"That's the spirit," Mom says, and Dad gives me a thumbs-up.

"Ahhh I'm so _excited_!" I squeal, jumping up and down. "I'm going to have so much fun!"

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you** _ **Honeyburst**_ **for submitting Luca, our District 7 Male, and thank you** _ **goldie031**_ **for submitting Ruby, our District 7 Female! What do you think of Luca, Ruby, and Fitzwilliam? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **I'll see you all hopefully on Saturday, November 17th in District 11!**


	12. District 11 Reaping

**A/N: Surprise, surprise! This chapter is actually on time!**

 **Not gonna lie, I did struggle quite a bit with these characters, even though I'm generally satisfied with the end result. I'll explain why in the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter, but I hope you enjoy nevertheless.**

 **Without further ado, please enjoy District 11!**

* * *

 **Winstead Dale, age 17  
** District 11 Male

I breathe heavily as I continue down the row of kale plants, picking a handful of leaves per plant and adding the leaves to my basket. Kale is in high demand these days in the Capitol - they say it's some kind of superfood - and the vegetable's peak harvest season is springtime, which is why we're harvesting a lot of it in Eleven even though spring when the Hunger Games take place every year. We don't get a break just because it's Reaping Day. My family is better off than many in Eleven and I'm grateful of the fact that I've never had to take tesserae, but that doesn't mean we can slack off.

"Hey Winstead, are you alright?"

It's my best friend, Abilene. Her family, the Ackermans, and my family are very close, and now she's jogging up to me with a concerned look on her face. Her basket is half-full of kale leaves, and she's carrying a water bottle in her other hand. I stand up from my work to smile at her, and that's when I realize how wet I am. My tank top is soaked with sweat, and when I put a hand to my hair I can't tell where the sweat from my hands ends and where the sweat from my hair begins.

"I guess I need a break," I say, frowning. I must look disgusting.

It isn't even that sunny right now, but it's very hot for a spring day, and my hyperhidrosis means that I sweat far more than most people. Sweating too much is an annoying condition to have because it means that when it's hot or sunny out I can't keep up with more energetic people like Abilene without getting soaked and dehydrated. I wish I can work harder and run faster, but there's nothing I can do about my hyperhidrosis other than rest a lot in the shade and drink a lot of water. Which I guess I have to do now or I'll keel over.

"Here, drink this," Abilene says sweetly, handing me her water bottle. "I'll get you some more cold water and a towel, okay? I'll meet you at the tree."

"Thanks," I murmur, too exhausted to say anything more as Abilene smiles at me before jogging away. I drink the water slowly, resisting the urge to gulp it down, and focus on breathing steadily. When the bottle is empty, I make my way to the large elm tree that I often find myself resting under after a long, sweat-filled day at work.

"You're doing great, guys, keep it up," I say as I pass some friends from school who work alongside me. Viridian looks up from his harvesting and gives me a thumbs-up and a smile. I smile back.

I reach the cool shade and sit down, leaning against the thick trunk of the tree. Despite getting some water in my system, I still feel a little dizzy and lightheaded, not to mention the fact that I'm still really sweaty. I sigh, wringing my shirt and grimacing at how gross it is.

Abilene reaches the tree in just a few minutes, carrying six plastic water bottles and a wet towel.

"Here," she says, making her way to where I'm sitting. "You should drink up. The Reaping is later today and I don't want you fainting in the crowd."

"I don't want that to happen either," I say, smiling gratefully as I take the towel and a bottle of water. I drape the towel around my shoulders - it's soaked with cold water, which feels great - and drink the brand-new bottle of water.

"How are you feeling now?" Abilene asks, sitting next to me. "Better?"

"Yeah," I say, wiping away my sweat with the towel. "I should get back to work."

"Winstead, you need to rest," Abilene insists. "And our shift will be over soon anyways."

"Sure," I sigh, drinking more water. "When I get home I'm taking a long, long, long, cold, cold, cold shower."

"Of course," Abilene says, grinning. "Well, I'm going to do a bit more work but we'll walk home together, okay?"

"Are you sure?" I ask. "I know you like to go for a run after work. You don't need to wait for me, I'll be fine walking home with everyone."

Abilene is silent for a bit as she ponders whether to walk with me or run on her own after work. I can tell that she wants to make sure I'm okay, so I add, "We can walk to the pickup area together like we always do on Reaping Days."

"Alright, I'll see you later, I guess," Abilene says slowly, though she's wearing her usual smile. "And stay there until the bells ring, I want to make sure you aren't dehydrated."

"Yes ma'am," I say jokingly. Abilene laughs and bounds away, leaving me in the shade with the towel and the water bottles.

I smile as I watch my best friend go back to work. I care about her a lot, and I'd hate to see her get hurt. She's always so sweet to me and everyone around her.

I run my fingers along the yellow shoelace in my pocket. It's my good luck charm, reminding me of my sunny personality and my love for running. Abilene has the other shoelace in the pair, as a symbol of our friendship. It's pretty funny, the way we grew up together and did everything together, and still do. Maybe after work I can run with her, even though I sweat so much. I can always rehydrate when I get home.

"Hey, earth to Winstead," a voice sounds. I start, realizing that Viridian is waving a hand in front of me. "Whatcha doin', thinking about your girlfriend?"

"Abilene is not my girlfriend," I splutter, caught off guard by Viridian and his cheeky smile.

"Oh I get it, she's just a friend you think about a lot who happens to be a girl," Viridian says, grinning. "Hey, you feeling alright? You look kinda red."

"Yeah I'm fine, just sweating too much as usual," I say good-naturedly, glad that my friend changed the subject. "But I'm getting plenty of rest and water."

"That's good," Viridian says, nodding.

By the time my work shift ends, I feel a lot better. I still wish I can do more, but I've done all that I can considering my condition. I meet up with my family and the Ackermans - minus Abilene, who must have run off already - and we all start home.

* * *

 **Abilene Ackerman, age 17  
** District 11 Female

My sneakers hit the cracked pavement as I run. I'm pretty sweaty - not as sweaty as Winstead was earlier today, but I'm still working up a good sweat - but I feel great, the way I always feel when I run. It was a pretty short run from the kale fields where I work to my house, and I reached my house before anyone else, but I felt like running a bit more so after I dropped everything off I started my usual lap around my neighborhood. I'm about halfway through the lap and I still feel like I can run a lot more.

I turn a corner where the houses meet the fields and skid to a stop when I spot a small girl sitting on the ground in front of me. She's holding her ankle and has a look of pain on her face. I recognize the girl. Her name is Azalea, and I've lent her a hand a few times in the past. I don't know how old she is, but there's a good chance that she's twelve and this is her first Reaping. No matter what, though, she looks like she needs help.

"Hey," I say gently, wiping some sweat off my brow before crouching down and smiling gently at Azalea. "Are you alright?"

"I think I broke my ankle," Azalea says, frowning.

"Here, let me see," I say, reaching down and moving Azalea's hands slowly. I don't see anything on the surface, but that doesn't mean that there isn't anything wrong.

"Does it hurt more when you press down on it?" I ask.

"I don't… yes," Azalea says. I'm surprised at how forcefully she said yes, but I don't think too much about it. I loot around my pockets and find nothing but a few coins.

"Hey, I was on a run so I don't have much on me," I say, frowning as I pocket the change, "but I can help you get home. Do you think you can stand up if you put weight on your good leg?"

"I'll try," Azalea says, looking pained as she tries to stand up. I help her, and I end up supporting the little girl as she stands on one leg without putting much weight on the other.

"Alright, can you maybe take a few steps forward?" I ask. "And if it hurts to put weight on your bad ankle, just use your good leg and I'll help you walk."

Azalea tries to put her bad leg down, but she grimaces when she does so. "I think I need to see a doctor," she says, looking up at me sadly, "but I'm not sure if my family can afford it."

"Oh," I say quietly. I don't hesitate at all to pull out the coins I'm carrying. "You can have-"

"There you are, Azalea!"

Azalea's eyes go wide as a thin but angry-looking woman rounds the corner and glares at the little girl.

"Eep, gotta go!" Azalea squeaks, wriggling away from me and taking off like a scared rabbit. She's fast, and she's gone before I can even register what's happening. The woman chases after the girl, and I'm left standing there pondering what to do. I'm feeling confused more than anything. What just happened? How did Azalea run so fast with a broken ankle? Unless…

I shake my head. No, she wouldn't do that. Maybe she didn't hurt her ankle as badly as she thought she did, and I know that people can shake off their injuries easily if they're scared. Realizing that Azalea's probably scared right now, I run after her and the woman.

I catch up to them pretty quickly - I'm a pretty fast runner, after all - and the woman is gripping Azalea's hand tightly and looking at me apologetically.

"Hello," she says, clearly trying to look calm when she's holding onto a squirming little girl. "I really apologize for my daughter's behavior. This isn't the first time this has happened."

"What do you mean?" I ask, utterly confused now. "Wasn't she hurt?"

"Of course not, how else would she have run away so quickly?" the woman huffs. "I'm sorry Azalea tried to take advantage of you. We may be struggling but it isn't fair to trick people out of their money."

"She didn't-" I stop short. Did the little girl really pretend to be injured in order to get me to give her my change?

"I'm afraid this has become a habit for her," the woman sighs, running a hand through her graying hair. "I love my daughter. I just wish there was a way for me to get through to her."

I'm still surprised, but I manage a smile, like I always do. "You know, if you're struggling, you can have these," I say, handing the coins I'm carrying to the woman. "I know it isn't much - I was on a run so that was all I had in my pockets - but I hope it helps."

The woman looks shocked, but she smiles at me. "Are you sure?" she asks. "It seems unfair for you to help us after what Azalea did-"

"I'm sure," I say, placing the coins in the woman's hands. I crouch down and smile at Azalea, even though the little girl looks nervous. "And Azalea, if you ever need anything, don't be afraid to be honest and ask."

"Really?" Azalea asks, her eyes lighting up.

"Don't give her any ideas," Azalea's mother says, looking stressed. "You've already done so much for us-"

"I'd be happy to help," I say, smiling. "My name is Abilene, and I live nearby. If you guys ever need anything feel free to reach out, okay?"

"Okay," Azalea exclaims, smiling.

"We'll keep that in mind," the woman says, sighing. "You're a kind soul, Abilene. I would hate to see you get hurt."

"Don't worry, I won't," I say. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Ma'am?"

"I think you should get ready for the Reaping," the woman says gently. "We're about to head home."

"Alright," I say, nodding. "I'll see you two around."

"Good luck, Abilene," Azalea's mother says, smiling at me. I smile back before heading back home, throwing myself into a run.

I feel great, even though it's Reaping Day. Life is wonderful and full of wonderful people, and the Hunger Games aren't going to get me down. I'm in a happy mood all the way home.

* * *

 **Florin La Rue, age 22  
** District 11 Escort

I don't admit it except to people I really trust, but over the five years I've been here I've come to really like District 11. The open fields are a welcome change from the claustrophobic buildings of the Capitol, and the Mayor, a nice old man named Garland Till, really tries his best to lift his District out of its poverty and harsh Peacekeeper treatment.

There's also Oregano Carraway, the Victor of the 40th Games. He's the same age as me, and I brought him home on my first year of escorting. We're very close because of this, but I'm still terrified of admitting to anyone that I'm head-over-heels in love with him. Firstly, Orrie, despite his kindness, is skittish and easily startled; I'm nervous about how he'd react if I confessed to him. Secondly, my parents would kill me if they found out I was in love with a District citizen who likes to work in the fields. Thirdly, if news of my feelings for Orrie got out there would be a shitstorm.

I don't like shitstorms.

"Florin."

I'm snapped out of my daze by a voice that brings me back to reality. I've been staring at Orrie for who knows how long, and now Gardenia Terry is glaring at me from the other side of Orrie with those cold eyes of hers.

"Yes?" I say, regarding the Victor of the 33rd Games warily.

Gardenia Terry, the Victor with the current record for number of direct kills in the Hunger Games, is the scariest woman I've ever met. She insists on mentoring every year, and every Games her advice to the tributes is the same: close your heart, become a cold monster, kill, kill, kill because the world is cruel and that's the only way to win. Everyone I've met, whether in Eleven or the Capitol, is terrified of her.

She's the only part of District 11 I don't like.

"Nothing," Gardenia says coolly, leaning back but still glaring at me. "I just hope you'll continue following my strategy this year."

"O-of course," I stammer. "Whatever you say, Gardenia. Your strategy is as good as any."

"And Oregano, I expect you to encourage the tributes to become monsters as well," Gardenia says, her icy stare turning to her mentoring partner. "We have varying degrees of success year by year and I hope this year will be a better one. We don't want our tributes to get hurt now, do we?"

Orrie is silent, and I take his hand and give it what I hope is a reassuring squeeze. He's looking down and shaking. I want to say something, anything to comfort him, but the truth is that I've always been a total coward. I'm too scared to go against Gardenia, the woman who sliced brutally through her victims' bodies without batting an eye.

"Orrie?" Gardenia prods.

"I-I'll do my best," Orrie says, not looking at Gardenia.

"Gardenia, please," Mayor Till says sternly, even though I can hear the fear in his voice. "I expect you to have a working relationship with Orrie and Florin. How can you expect to have one when they're terrified of you?"

I smile in relief at Mayor Till's intervention, but my smile quickly fades when Gardenia's stare moves to the Mayor.

"With all due respect, Mayor," Gardenia says, "many working relationships are based on fear. It's a cruel world we live in, and therefore, in order for our tributes to survive, they must become cruel. I'm just doing my best to help our tributes come home."

"What do you know, it's time for the Reaping to begin," Mayor Till says, standing up. He places a comforting hand on Orrie's shoulder as he walks past. "Orrie, thanks for being the one to deal with Gardenia this year. Let me know if you need anything."

Orrie nods stiffly, and when Mayor Till moves on I hasten to smile at the Victor. I hope my smile is enough to reassure Orrie as Mayor Till begins his usual somber and succinct speech. He lists District 11's three Victors, introduces Gardenia and Orrie, and turns things over to me.

Every year, my parents expect me to act excited for the Hunger Games, and since I'm too scared to disagree with them I follow their orders and play the part of the overly enthusiastic escort. Capitolites like this angle better, and Orrie and Mayor Till know it's an act anyways.

I walk energetically to the center of the stage, wishing District 11 a happy Hunger Games and saying the usual "may the odds be ever in your favor". I'm wearing a bright pink tuxedo patterned with flowers, a matching flower-patterned tie, and a crown of pink flowers. My hair is dyed dark green, and my skin is dyed spring green. At least my appearance expresses how much I like District 11.

"I'm happy to be here, as always," I say, smiling and hoping that all this acting is worth it in the end. It isn't a lie that I'm happy to be here, at least.

"Of course, I'm very honored to be your escort, and I hope that this year will be a winning year for all of us," I say happily. "I'm going to do my very best to bring one of our tributes home, but I can't do that unless we meet our tributes, can I?" I chuckle to myself, even though the entire District, including the Reaping Areas shown on the screens in the City Square, is silent.

"Without further ado, let's meet our girl," I say. I walk over to the girls' Reaping Bowl, fish out a slip, and walk back to the microphone.

"District 11," I say, unfolding the piece of paper, "your female tribute is Abilene Ackerman!"

I watch the screens for movement, and sure enough, a girl steps out of the seventeen-year-old section of one of the Reaping Areas. She's remarkably beautiful, wearing a purple dress with her hair half up and half down. She has tan skin, dark brown hair, and brown eyes that wide with fear. The girl walks to the stage set up at her Reaping Area stiffly.

"Are there any volunteers for Abilene?" I ask when Abilene reaches the stage. I count to twenty, but there are no volunteers, as expected.

"Alright then, let's meet our boy," I say, walking over to the boys' Reaping Bowl and choosing a slip of paper from it. I unfold the slip as I walk back to the microphone.

"District 11, your male tribute is Winstead Dale!"

A fair-skinned boy practically jumps out of the seventeen-year-old section in the same Reaping Area as Abilene's. His hair is wet, and his black button-down shirt, with its sleeves rolled up, looks damp as well. The boy runs onto the stage and gives the Reaped girl a big hug. I raise my eyebrows at this turn of events - maybe the two Reaped tributes know each other. It seems likely, considering that Winstead is holding onto Abilene and whispering something to her.

"Are there any volunteers for Winstead?" I ask, but there are none. I take a deep breath and straighten my tie. If Winstead and Abilene really know each other, going into the Hunger Games together will be difficult for them. I'll have to do my best to make sure that they are as prepared as possible, and that one of them will make it out alive.

"District 11, your tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Abilene Ackerman and Winstead Dale!" I exclaim.

Normally I would ask the tributes to shake hands since they're from the same Reaping Area, but since Winstead and Abilene are still hugging I decide against it. The District gives a round of polite applause, and I turn things back to Mayor Till, already wondering how I'm going to help mentor two tributes who probably have a history together.

* * *

 **Winstead Dale, age 17  
** District 11 Male

I sigh, leaning back as my friends leave the Goodbye Room. I'm still sweaty, whether it's from the heat or my fear, and I fan myself, trying to cool myself down. All I can think about is how I'm going to do whatever I can to protect Abilene.

The door opens, and my family walks in. Georgia, my fourteen-year-old sister, almost tackles me with a hug, but then she sees how sweaty I am and sits down next to me instead. Mom and Dad take their seats as well, and I smile at my family, hoping to let them know that even though I'm in the Games I'm going to keep my head up.

"I'm going to do my best, guys," I say. "I'm going to learn how to use a weapon, and if I have to kill in order to protect myself and Abilene I will."

"Please, just take care of each other, okay?" Mom says with tears in her eyes. "I don't want to lose you both."

"I'll try my best," I say. It isn't a lie.

"Mom, Dad," Georgia says, "will I have to marry Barric now?"

"Of course not," Dad says, giving my sister a quick hug. "What makes you think that we'd force it to happen?"

"I know you and the Ackermans wanted your kids to get married," Georgia responds slowly, "and now that either Winstead or Abilene are going to die, does that mean that it's up to me and Barric now?"

"No!" Mom exclaims, ruffling Georgia's hair. "I know you and Barric are like siblings. We wouldn't want to take that relationship away from you."

"How do you know about that marrying thing, anyways?" Dad asks with a pained smile.

"I… I'm sorry," Georgia mutters, looking down. "I should be saying goodbye to Winstead, not getting into your business."

"Stay strong, okay sis?" I ask with a smile as I give Georgia a hug. "I'll do my best to make it home, but no matter what happens, you'll be okay."

Georgia sighs as she hugs me back. "Winstead, do you really mean it when you say you'll learn a weapon?"

"Definitely," I say, nodding. "I want to be able to defend myself and Abilene in the Arena."

"It's a good idea to learn a weapon," Mom says gravely. "I've watched a few Games in the past where a few tributes refused to touch weapons. Winstead, you have a good heart, but not touching weapons is going to get in the way of your survival. So learn a few things during Training, okay?"

"I will," I say. "I promise. And I'll be by Abilene's side until the very end. I care about her too much to ever abandon her."

"I'm glad that you two are going to take care of each other," Dad says, squeezing my shoulder. "Winstead, we'll all miss you, but I know you're going to do your best and keep your head up."

"Of course," I say, nodding vigorously.

The Ackermans visit me after my family leaves. They ask me to do my best for both myself and Abilene, and I promise that I'll do that much. Barric promises to be there for Georgia, and I find myself smiling at how much the Ackermans care about me like they're my family as well.

Then the Ackermans leave, and I'm left alone in the Goodbye Room, determined to be there for Abilene throughout the Games. These are hard times, but I'm positive that we can get through them together.

* * *

 **Abilene Ackerman, age 17  
** District 11 Female

As the Dales leave the Goodbye Room, I lean back in the couch and close my eyes. I'm exhausted from work, running, getting Reaped alongside Winstead, and being visited by friends, my family, and the Dales. I try to smile like always, but I can't help but worry about going into the Games with Winstead.

I know he's going to take care of me and I'm going to take care of him, but I also know that I'm not ready in any way for the Hunger Games. In my seventeen years of life I've never had to experience hunger, death, or tragedy. I'm utterly unprepared for being responsible for someone's death, and I don't want to think about touching a weapon. I promised my parents that I'd learn how to use a knife, but I don't think I can actually use it to kill someone. All my life I've been helpful and supportive of people, seeing the good in everything and everyone. How can I turn that around and kill?

 _Come on,_ I think to myself, trying to bring me out of my uncharacteristic sadness. _Look on the bright side. You can do this. You'll be with Winstead every step of the way._

I smile as I think about my best friend. With him by my side, I can do anything. There's no point in worrying and being negative, so instead I take a deep breath, preparing for what comes next.

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to** _ **curiousclove**_ **for submitting both Winstead, our District 11 Male, and Abilene, our District 11 Female! What do you think of Winstead, Abilene, and Florin? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **So the reason why I struggled with Abilene and Winstead was that they were submitted as a pair of close friends, and it was kind of difficult to give each of them their unique voice. I ended up having Winstead's first POV focus too much on Abilene, whereas Abilene's first POV expressed her as her own person. I did like the way Winstead's first POV came out though, so to compensate for Abilene having more spotlight in Winstead and Abilene's first POVs I gave Winstead a longer second POV than Abilene. Hope this makes sense.**

 **Finally, I apologize for how inactive I am on this site. I can hardly keep up with my own SYOT, so everything else - reviewing other people's stories and creating characters - is currently on hold. To everyone I owe reviews to, I'm sorry, and I hope I can get them done as soon as possible. However, Reality will take priority.**

 **I'll see you all hopefully on Saturday, December 1st in District 6!**


	13. District 6 Reaping

**A/N: Hi, I'm finally back. Sorry I took so long.**

 **Due to unforeseen circumstances that I can give you the details of if you PM me, I had to get replacements for three of this story's tributes. I have updated District 9 (Chapter 6) and District 7 (Chapter 11) with the new D9F and D7F, Kauri Balestra and Ruby Rodriguez respectively. The new D10M will be introduced in the District 10 chapter.**

 **In addition to introducing Kauri and Ruby, the new versions of Districts 9 and 7 have some other new content in the escorts' POVs as well as Ohio's POV, all of which I had to modify. Please see the aforementioned chapters for the updated versions of Districts 9 and 7.**

 **Since this story update introduces four tributes as opposed to the usual two, it did take a while to write, and I'm really sorry about that. I still hope you can enjoy this chapter as well as the new versions of District 9 and District 7.**

 **The hiatus is over now, however, and I hope to update more consistently from now on. Without further ado, please enjoy District 6!**

 **Trigger warning for mentions of brief mentions drug abuse in both POVs.**

* * *

 **Mercedes Fletcher, age 16  
** District 6 Female

The neighborhood I'm walking in isn't the worst part of District 6, but it's a far cry from the Victors' Village where I live with my dad. But considering what my father did to win his Games, I think I'm better off not hanging out there.

I pass the toy store where Elantra, Cadillac, and I used to hang out and let myself sigh when I see an assortment of small, cheap plush toys in the window. Cadillac was always the expert on them. Some days I like to say hello to the shop people, just to remind them that I haven't forgotten them, but I don't want to be reminded of my best friends' deaths on Reaping Day. Cadillac and Elantra died two years ago, when a car ran into them while the three of us were crossing a street. I somehow survived with only a nick, but to this day I can't help but think that the driver was aiming for me, the daughter of Panem's most rebellious Victor, and it was my fault that my best friends died.

I look away from the toy store, trying not to cry.

As a general rule of thumb, the poorer a Six neighborhood is, the grittier it gets and the more drug users you will see wasted on the streets. There are seedier places than where I am now, but the sidewalk is cracked, the streets are dusty, and I see a homeless man sleeping against a nearby brick building.

There's an empty syringe on the ground next to him, and my heart breaks for the man. I don't hesitate to grab a handful of loose change from my closely guarded purse and shove the pile of coins gently into the man's side. I don't want to disturb a sleeping homeless man, but I can't help but feel bad for him. He has to be going through a lot of pain in order to use drugs to feel good.

Remembering my father's warning that addicts who receive money as a gift often use it to buy more drugs, I look around for somewhere to sit. I see a stone bench at a bus stop, but it feels a bit far away so I sigh and sit down against the wall a few feet away from the sleeping man. I pull out my notepad and a pencil to write a quick message to the man.

"Please buy some food with this. -Mercedes"

I'm not sure if this will work, but it's worth a shot. I tear the piece of paper out of the notepad, fold the note, and slide it next to the man. With the deed done, I continue on my way, hoping that the homeless man will have something to eat when he wakes up.

I reach my destination in less than ten minutes. It's a little electronic shop that sells a miscellany of electronic goods, from small circuit boards to old flip phones to the occasional television set. I enter the store and smile at the shopkeeper.

"Hello, Mercedes," the shopkeeper, Mx. Toyoda, greets from behind the counter as I enter. I'm here so often that I'm a familiar face to them.

"Good morning, Clear," I say with a smile, being friendly enough with the main shopkeeper to call them by their first name. "Do you guys have anything new since I was last here?"

"Right to the point, as usual," Clear says, smiling back. "A few days ago someone dropped off some old electronics and I think you may be interested in the crank flashlight."

"So you wind it up and it lights up?" I ask, my interest immediately piqued.

"Yes," Clear says, reaching for the gadget on the shelf behind them and holding it out to me. I examine the flashlight. It has a light on the end like an ordinary flashlight, but it's thicker and shorter than a regular flashlight and, of course, has a crank attached to it.

"How does it work?" I ask, taking the gadget and turning it around in my hands.

"I can tell you, but I'm sure you can figure it out yourself," Clear says with a cheeky grin.

"Hey, no fair!" I say jokingly, but in all honesty I'm looking forward to taking this little thing apart and putting it back together to work out its quirks. "How much is it?"

Clear names a price that is pretty reasonable considering that I practically bought the gadget before he even gave me the price. I pay for the flashlight with a smile. I tuck it into my purse, looking forward to adding it to my large collection of electronic gadgets. I know I have a lot, and my desk is cluttered with them, but electronics are my passion and I hope to get a job involving them one day. I've never wanted to go down the normal path of working in the District industry. But then again, I've never been a normal Six citizen.

"Would you like to stay for lunch?" Clear asks after I pay for the flashlight and we make light conversation for a while. "Providence and Concord should be back soon."

"Thanks for the offer, but I should really get going," I say, regret welling up inside me. The truth is that I've never let anyone too close to me after Elantra and Cadillac died. It's for everyone's own good to not associate too much with Aston Fletcher's daughter.

"I'll see you later, then, Mercedes," Clear says, smiling.

"Yeah, of course," I reply. "See ya!"

I wave at the shopkeeper as I exit the store, my new crank flashlight tucked safely in my bag. I'd love to play with it later today, but I have to go to the Reaping.

The thought of the Reaping makes me frown. It's an event that brings me a lot of fear that I'll get rigged into the Games. The fear has lessened after my first Reaping, in which my name was drawn from the Reaping Bowl but someone I didn't know volunteered to take my place because her brother was Reaped before her and she wanted to protect him. I've been safe in all my Reapings after that one, so I'm starting to think that maybe I won't be rigged into the Games and me being Reaped as a twelve-year-old was just bad luck. And if it was bad luck, I had my share of it being Reaped as a twelve-year-old so I won't get Reaped again. I hope.

The Capitol may be out to get me, but maybe they're choosing not to do it through the Games.

I sigh when I realized that I've been standing in one spot spacing out for who knows how long. I've still got time to kill before the Reaping, thought, so I make my way down the street, away from my home in the Victors' Village where I will undoubtedly be spied on.

* * *

 **Miles Anderson Way, age 18  
** District 6 Male

That damned chihuahua won't shut up.

Sunny's high-pitched barks fill the house along with shouting coming from the kitchen. My heart races as I try to block out the loud noises. I understand that my mother was hoping that a dog would distract Tyra from her morphling, teach Carol responsibility, and brighten up the house in general. But couldn't she have gotten a mellow older dog who isn't a torture to her noise-sensitive son? I grit my teeth as I put on my best clothes for the Reaping. The Reaping isn't for a while, but I sure as hell am not going to stay home any longer than I have to.

"Who cares about her stupid morphling?!" Carol shouts, and I cringe. My younger sister is fifteen and an overgrown brat. She's loud and angry, everything has to be about her, and she gets worse when she isn't receiving the attention she desires. I can't believe Carol is putting herself above Tyra, who's twenty-two and struggling with morphling addiction.

"How could you say that, Carol?!" Mom yells back. I love my mother - she's kind and hardworking - but she doesn't have much of a filter and she can be overbearing sometimes. I don't blame her too much, though. Now that Dad's working as a tribute train conductor, Mom has to juggle her own job as well as take care of me, Tyra, and Carol. She really does try her best, so I give her plenty of space.

Mom and Carol continue to argue with Sunny barking nonstop in the background. Seriously, how is that dog not tired yet? I finish tying my tie, grab my acoustic guitar from its usual place next to my bed, and hurry towards the front door of my house. I pass Mom, Tyra, and Carol on the way out but I don't pay too much attention to them. Mom and Carol are too entrenched in their argument to notice me, and I hear Tyra say that she's gone five months without a hit and they should be proud of her. That's a lie. Mom found a needle under Tyra's pillow just under a week ago.

I'm about to slip quietly with my guitar out of the front door when I sigh and take a detour to toss a cheap dog biscuit to Sunny. That chihuahua annoys the hell out of me, but I do feel bad for her. She's just a dog whose family is too busy being dysfunctional to spend all that much time with her.

As Sunny pounces on the treat, I finally make my getaway from the loudness of my house. Outside, it's better, though the traffic sounds are annoying even on Reaping Day. It's a relatively short walk from my house to the Victors' Village, my destination. I sling my guitar bag over my shoulder as I start to my boyfriend Rodin's house.

Rodin Trainor is the Victor of the 41st Games, which he won as one of Panem's three fifteen-year-old Victors. The two of us go way back. On the first day of preschool Rodin heard me snoring during naptime. So he hit me on the head with his lunch box, and we've been best friends ever since. Rodin has gone through changes over the years from a self-centered young boy to a kind teenager to a haunted Victor, and our relationship has changed as well - after his Games we started dating - but in the end he's still Rodin.

I reach the iron gate of the Victors' Village in around thirty minutes. Since the security here is so good, I have to dial Rodin's house number on the keypad every time I come here. I don't mind the hassle, though, because his house feels like the only place I can get some peace and quiet these days.

"Who's there? What's your business with me?" Rodin's voice sounds sharply from the other end of the line. To many people his behavior may be weird, but I don't blame him for being skittish and paranoid since his Games.

"Hey Rodin, it's just me, Miles," I say.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Rodin says, his tone changing quickly into one of guilt. "Man, why am I like this? Can't even have my boyfriend visit without me sounding like a prison interrogator. I'm sorry, Miles. Come on in."

The gate to the Victors' Village swings open, and I thank Rodin for letting me into the community before walking towards Rodin's house. I try to ignore the two armed guards who are patrolling the Victors' Village. At least it's much quieter here than where I live. I quickly reach Rodin's house, ring the doorbell, and wait for my boyfriend to answer the door.

I don't have to wait very long before the door opens, Rodin answering it with a smile. My heart feels like it's flying when I see him. He looks amazing, as usual, and is very visibly relaxed now that he's seeing me in person. I smile back.

"Hey, thanks for coming here, babe," Rodin says, moving forward and grabbing my face with his hands before giving me a long, deep kiss. I kiss him back hard, my heart pounding in my chest as my hands find their way to his waist and we step inside his house together. I know where this is going, but I don't mind it in the slightest. We make out passionately for a bit, but then a loud cough sounds from nearby and stop what we're doing, embarrassed.

"Geez you two, get a room, will you?" Rodin's sister Jetta says loudly from the one-person couch a few feet away, though she has an amused expression on her face. "I was right here all this time and if I hadn't said anything who knows what you two would've done in front of me."

"Wait, you were?" Rodin asks, visibly flustered. "Ah, I'm sorry. I was feeling stressed about the Reaping and when I saw that Miles was coming I had to… ya know…"

"Release some of that stress by doing hanky panky in front of your fifteen-year-old sister?" Jetta asks with a smirk.

"Geez, sis, for the last time, I forgot that you were here!" Rodin exclaims.

"Hey guys, I brought my guitar so do you want to have a jam session?" I ask, sensing an awkward situation and cutting in for Rodin's sake. Normally I'm not this assertive, but I want to help the boy I love.

"Ooh, that'd be fun," Jetta says. Rodin nods at me gratefully.

I smile at the Trainor siblings and pull my guitar out of its bag along with a pick. My acoustic guitar isn't the best - it's a bit small for me and it buzzes a lot when I try to strum it - but it was passed down to me as a family heirloom from my dad so it's my most treasured possession.

I feel my stress melt away as I lose myself in the music the three of us produce. Rodin's father ends up joining in, and even though Rodin's mother has never been much of a singer she always enjoys watching us have our fun. Today is no exception.

"Hey Miles," Rodin says when it's time for me to leave, "Thanks for coming over. I was feeling so anxious about the Reaping but the singing really helped."

"To be honest I just needed some peace and quiet from my family," I respond, "but I really did enjoy myself. So thanks, honestly."

"How's everyone?" Rodin asks, concern in his voice.

"Not getting worse but not getting better either," I sigh.

"Hey, if you need anything I'm your man," Rodin says gently, giving me a quick hug. "Especially after all you've done for me."

"I love you, Rodin," I say with a smile. "You really mean a lot to me."

I see Jetta sticking her tongue out in a disgusted face in the background, so I say goodbye to my boyfriend and his family before his spunky little sister can complain too much.

I walk home with a brisk pace, hoping that I haven't missed much. I may have negative feelings towards my sisters, but I wouldn't leave them to walk to the Reaping without me.

As it turns out, according to Mom, while I was away at Rodin's house Tyra wandered away from home and had to be brought back by Mercedes Fletcher, a girl we barely know even though she's the daughter of a Six Victor. I feel embarrassed about this, so I say a quick apology to my mother, who responds by hugging me and saying that she hopes I'll be safe.

"Let's go already!" Carol shouts from the front of the house.

"We'd better head out," Mom sighs, and I nod, smoothing the wrinkles out of my Reaping clothes and following my mother out the door.

* * *

 **Aria Shah, age 50  
** District 6 Escort

I hate being an escort.

I was welcomed into the escorting business two years ago with open arms because everyone was happy to see me in the public eye again after my retirement from my old career as an idol singer. I wanted to do something to serve Panem, and I thought it would be interesting to do something new and different, which is why I took the job.

I found my duties to be easy enough, but I quickly discovered that I hated being an escort for the annual Hunger Games. It was awful helping and getting attached to two children, only to watch them die. District 6 is a dreary place as well, with its urban decay, lack of color, and drug problem. I soon realized that being an escort was a bad idea, especially for someone like me who was never too enthusiastic about the Hunger Games. I mean, I understand why they exist and they serve a necessary purpose, but they really are barbaric.

The only reason why I did not retire after that first year is the fact that I have far too much pride to only be an escort for one or two years - after all, only the escorts not fit for their jobs leave their positions that quickly. Three years is a reasonable amount of time, though. After this year, I'm going to announce my retirement from my position and think of another way to serve Panem.

"How are you doing, Sonata?" Aston Fletcher asks kindly from his seat next to me.

Aston is the Victor of the 28th Games, but thanks to the way he won his Games we don't talk about him or his Games much. He's under constant monitoring by the Capitol thanks to what he did, and part of the reason why he isn't dead is that he agreed to mentor every year so that he could be under closer observation. I personally wish that they'd cut Aston some slack. He's a kind man, and he hasn't done anything problematic since his Games.

Sonata Wheeler, Victor of the 4th Games, sighs. The old woman still shows signs of prolonged morphling use, with the bags under her eyes and her slightly discolored skin, but she at least looks better than when I last saw her.

"I haven't touched morphling in three months," she says slowly.

"You've really done well," Aston replies with a smile. "You're getting better."

"Thanks for suggesting that I mentor this year, Aston," Sonata says, smiling slightly back. "I hope it'll let me move around a bit and take my mind off the morphling."

"And thank you for trying your best," Aston says. "Hang in there."

"I don't know where I'd be if Rodin hadn't won," Sonata murmurs. "It was thanks to him that I finally started trying to get better… I'm sorry, Aston. I'm sorry for pushing you away all these years when you only wanted to help me."

"Let's focus on the present," Aston says, giving Sonata's hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll try our best to get one of our tributes home this year."

I find myself smiling slightly to myself. I suppose that despite the dreariness of District 6, people are still kind to each other.

Then Mayor Ford walks to the microphone to begin the Reaping, and I frown. He's lazy and corrupt, and the reason why Six has such a poverty and drug problem. I notice that he hasn't made any effort to interact with the District team all this time, but then I realize that I haven't really talked to Aston and Sonata either. I make a mental note to do my job better. I may not like being an escort, but I do want to be kind.

After the Mayor finishes his obligatory speech welcoming the District to the 44th Annual Hunger Games, he turns things over to me. I stand up and give a sad smile to the cameras as I walk towards the microphone.

Unlike some escorts, I understand that the Reaping is a somber occasion and I try to reflect that in my presentation. I still inject a bit of Capitol flair into my appearance, though, because that's what the people back home want. I end up with an outfit that's muted yet elegant: a floor-length, dark purple dress that perfectly complements my lavender skin and long black hair.

"Hello, District 6, and welcome to the Reaping for the 44th Annual Hunger Games," I say, looking out into the crowd. "My name is Aria Shah and I'm your escort for the Games. May the odds be ever in your favor, and I will start by choosing a female tribute."

Traditionally the girls are picked first, and then the boys. Some escorts like to mix things up by sometimes going in the other order, but I'm not one to inject uncertainty into the Reapings. So I walk over to the female Reaping Bowl, pick out a name, and return to the microphone.

 _No,_ I think when I read the name on the slip of paper, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"Will Mercedes Fletcher please come to the stage?" I say.

Aston Fletcher's daughter makes her way out of the crowd of sixteen-year-old girls. She looks far more calm and collected than she did when she was Reaped four years ago as a twelve-year-old. Still, I feel my stomach knot. I have a feeling that nobody will volunteer for Mercedes this time around.

"Are there any volunteers for Mercedes?" I ask, not expecting any but giving the crowd some time anyways. When it is clear that there won't be a volunteer, I let out a small sigh.

"District 6, your female tribute for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Mercedes Fletcher," I announce, feeling bad that Aston will most likely lose his daughter. I look over at Aston, and it's clear that he can barely contain his emotions, as he's wiping away a tear.

"Let's meet our boy tribute now," I say, hoping that Aston will be okay. Already feeling upset by the fact that I'll have to guide Aston Fletcher's daughter through the Games, I move quickly to retrieve a slip from the boys' Reaping Bowl. I don't recognize the name on this one so hopefully things will be easier with this tribute.

"Will Miles Anderson Way please come to the stage!" I say into the microphone.

"Miles, no!" a voice screams from the section of fifteen-year-old females - a sister, perhaps? - before a dark-skinned boy steps gingerly out of the section of eighteen-year-old boys. He looks down and shields his face from the cameras as he hurries onto the stage and comes to a stop next to Mercedes. Miles looks down, clearly shaking.

"Are there any volunteers for Miles?" I ask, but there are none. I study the tributes in front of me. Miles is trying not to cry, while Mercedes is looking at him with something resembling pity but definitely isn't that. I'm not sure who stands a better chance. Mercedes certainly was more composed, but since she's Aston Fletcher's daughter…

"District 6, your tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games are Miles Anderson Way and Mercedes Fletcher!" I announce out of obligation. "Tributes, shake hands."

Mercedes and Miles do so slowly, and I force a smile to the audience before turning things back to the lazy excuse of a Mayor. I'm already feeling a sense of dread for having to guide Aston Fletcher's daughter through the Games, and I'm sure I'll miss Miles dearly as well.

At least this is my last year.

* * *

 **Mercedes Fletcher, age 16  
** District 6 Female

Of course this shit would happen. Just as I was thinking that maybe I was as safe as everyone else during Reapings, I was rigged into the Games. It has to be rigged. Why else would the tributes this year be the loved ones of two Victors?

I punch a pillow and plop down onto the fancy couch of the Goodbye Room angrily. This is all my father's fault. He could've won his Games in a non-rebellious way, but no, he had to make the Capitol look bad by climbing aboard one of the hovercraft used to retrieve tribute corpses and knocking out the pilot. How does one even think of such a stupid strategy? And how does one actually go through with the plan and use it to become a Victor?

I've watched my father's Games - the 28th, which never gets spoken of - multiple times and I still don't understand why and how he did what he did. What's worse is that he put my mother in danger by marrying her almost immediately after his Games. My father has told me that Mom was his girlfriend before he went into the Games, and they both hoped that him having a family would put less of a target on his back. Well, he had me, but less than a year after I was born my mother died mysteriously, and it looks like I've become a Capitol target for being my father's daughter.

Way to go, Aston Fletcher. You ruined not only your life but mine as well.

I have exactly three visitors, but I'm not exactly in the mood to really talk to any of them. The first is Rodin Trainor. Since Rodin, Victor of the 41st Games, is my neighbor in the Victor's Village, he's probably the closest thing I have to a friend even though I keep my distance from him like I do with everyone else. He keeps his visit brief, which is understandable because my District Partner, Miles, is his boyfriend.

My second visitor is Clear Toyoda, the electronics shop owner who wishes me luck, suggests that I put my skill with electronics to use, and says they'll miss me. I receive a hug from them, but I hope that for their sake they move on from my inevitable death sooner as opposed to later.

My third visitor is unexpected. Mrs. Way, my District Partner's mother, comes into the room and thanks me for bringing her eldest daughter home today and other days.

"You're a kind girl, Mercedes," she says after giving me a brief hug. "If my son can't win, I hope you do."

I don't have the heart to tell her that I'm probably doomed.

* * *

 **Miles Anderson Way, age 18  
** District 6 Male

Rodin wanted to have some time to talk to me alone. After my family visited, bringing their hugs and tears, Rodin's family came in to say they'll miss me and to wish me luck. Jetta waves at me sadly from the door before it shuts behind her and her parents.

"Look, Miles, I don't have much time so I'll cut right to the chase," Rodin says with his hands on my shoulders. "I wish I was mentoring this year but I'm not so I'll have to give you Victor's advice now. Do you remember how I won my Games?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure if I can pull it off," I say hesitantly. Rodin won his Games with his great strategy - he went through them as a loner, not allying with or trusting anyone and appearing average and forgettable to his fellow tributes. However, once the Games started he won the favor of the Capitol by performing interesting feats such as climbing to the highest point of the Arena and making a trap that set its victims on fire. Rodin has always been more daring than me, though, and I don't think I have it in me to kill someone even if it's necessary in the Games.

"You can at least not ally with anyone and coast through the middle of the crowd at first, right?" Rodin asks.

"That won't be too hard, I guess," I say slowly. "It's the killing and stunts that I'm not sure I can do."

"Well, if you're lucky maybe you can get by without that part," Rodin says, "but please, Miles, please try to come home. I don't want to lose you."

"I'll try my best," I say, leaning in and giving my boyfriend a hug.

After all, trying my best is the least I can do.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you** _ **04darkwarrior1**_ **for submitting Mercedes, our District 6 Female, and thanks** _ **AmericanPi**_ **for submitting Miles, our District 6 Male! Also, many thanks to** _ **TheEngineeringGames**_ **for submitting Kauri, our District 9 Female, and thank you** _ **goldie031**_ **for submitting Ruby, our District 7 Female! What do you think of Mercedes, Miles, and Aria? How about Kauri and Ruby? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **I know that Mercedes and Miles's first POVs were a lot longer than their second POVs, but that was the way I thought would best express their characters. I also feel that the writing of this update wasn't my best work, so please excuse me for being rusty after the hiatus.**

 **In other news, I've updated the story blog with the new tributes! I will be updating the blog in other ways in the future, and will notify everyone via Author's Note when I do so. Here is the blog (remember to remove the spaces):**

 **realityhg . weebly . c o m**

 **Tribute List:**

District 1 Female: **Morgan Chatelaine** , age 18, submitted by krasnymak **  
**District 1 Male: **Glitz Mayfair** , age 18, submitted by CelticGames4

District 2 Female: **Sequoia Clearwater** , age 18, submitted by theflowercrowns **  
**District 2 Male: **Jason "Jae" Trynx** , age 18, submitted by epictomguy

District 3 Female: **Caltryx Mortem** , age 18, submitted by paperairline **  
**District 3 Male: **Andir Marx** , age 18, submitted by IciclePower33

District 4 Female: **Catalina Asbury** , age 18, submitted by Smiley (Guest) **  
**District 4 Male: **Mako Bailey** , age 17, submitted by AkaneOfFan (Guest)

District 5 Female: **Tatum Ridley** , age 18, submitted by tracelynn **  
**District 5 Male: **Gage Wilder** , age 18, submitted by IciclePower33

District 6 Female: **Mercedes Fletcher** , age 16, submitted by 04darkwarrior1 **  
**District 6 Male: **Miles Anderson Way** , age 18, submitted by AmericanPi

District 7 Female: **Ruby Rodriguez** , age 12, submitted by goldie031 **  
**District 7 Male: **Luca Springe** , age 12, submitted by Honeyburst

District 8 Female: **Clarissa Seldon** , age 14, submitted by uniqueUsername1024 **  
**District 8 Male: **Soy Nylsen** , age 13, submitted by cornellfann

District 9 Female: **Kauri Balestra** , age 18, submitted by TheEngineeringGames **  
**District 9 Male: **Ohio Lequi** , age 17, submitted by cornellfann **  
**  
District 10 Female: **Henna Fowler** , age 18, submitted by AmericanPi **  
**District 10 Male: **Benji Patten** , age 13, submitted by HogwartsDreamer113

District 11 Female: **Abilene Ackerman** , age 17, submitted by curiousclove **  
**District 11 Male: **Winstead Dale** , age 17, submitted by curiousclove

District 12 Female: **Isadora Fink** , age 17, submitted by Author-Hime **  
**District 12 Male: **Mero Coutel** , age 14, submitted by cornellfann

 **I'll see you all hopefully soon in District 4!**


	14. District 4 Reaping

**A/N: Hey guys, long time no see.**

 **I'd like to start by saying thank you to everyone who's reviewed or otherwise showed this story support; y'all are amazing. I know I haven't really been around FFN, and I apologize for my lack of activity but I've had a tough month. Unfortunately thanks to still being busy I highly doubt I'll be able to update this story once every two weeks like I had originally hoped to, at least not until summer rolls around. I'm still trying to update whenever I can, though, and I hope that the longer gaps between updates are made up for by the content of the chapters. Even if it may take a while, there's definitely no way that I'll abandon this story because I have a lot of passion for it.**

 **Thanks for your patience and understanding, and without further ado, please enjoy District 4!**

 **Trigger warning for homophobia in Mako's sections.**

* * *

 **Catalina Asbury, age 18  
** District 4 Female

I breathe through my snorkel as I marvel at a small school of thin, silvery fish near the surface of the water. I've always found it interesting how different kinds of fish have different habits, with some spending more time on the reef floor and others darting in between coral formations. I cast my eyes downwards and spot a striped fish swimming above the coral below, and I follow it, swimming after the fish until it is out of sight.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I breach the surface of the water to see Arielle, my best friend since I was little, taking off her snorkel. She's floating next to our friend Dory. I take off my own snorkel and smile at them.

"What's up, guys?" I ask.

"I was thinking we should head back," Arielle says, glancing at the beach of Half Moon behind her. "Snorkeling is fun but it's so annoying how hard it is to talk while you're doing it. I'm kind of in the mood to just sit around at this point."

"That's fair," I say with a smile, making a few strokes towards the beach. "We can go back. What do you think, Dory?"

"Sure," Dory says with a small nod. She's always been the quiet one of our friend group, but I enjoy her presence and she's fun to be around.

"I'll race you guys!" Arielle exclaims before putting on her snorkel and swimming towards the shore. I laugh and, after making sure that Dory is following me, start towards the beach as well. I swim quickly, moving my swim fins through the water, and pretty soon I've arrived at the beach. I wade through the shallows, taking off my snorkel gear.

"Need a hand?" I ask Dory as I notice that she's on her hands and knees in the shallow water next to me.

Dory nods, unable to talk due to her snorkeling gear still being on, and I help her up. Once she's on her feet, she takes off her swim fins and mask and smiles at me.

"Thanks Catalina," she says in her characteristic quiet voice. "I kind of tripped."

"Hey, no worries, it happens to all of us," I say, smiling back. I look around. "Where's Arielle?"

"Over here!" Arielle calls, and I follow the sound of her voice to where she is waving at Dory and I from a bit down the beach. She's sitting on the towels the three of us spread out on the sand, and I raise an eyebrow.

"How did you get there so quickly?" I ask with a laugh.

"Teleportation," Arielle yells with a cheeky grin. "Kidding, kidding!"

"We'll be right over," I call, and Arielle gives me a thumbs-up. Dory and I walk towards where Arielle is sitting, and I sigh happily as I admire the pleasant scenery around me.

"Hey Dory, hang on," I say to my friend as I spot a boy of about eleven carrying an empty basket and standing around with a confused look in his eyes. "I think that kid is lost, can you let Arielle know that I'll be right there?"

"Okay," Dory says slowly. I nod at her and approach the boy with a smile and a wave.

"Hey, you look a little lost," I say, loudly enough for the boy to hear me. "I can help you if you'd like!"

"Oh!" the boy exclaims, looking up at me when he's realized that I'm talking to him. "Yeah, that'd be cool!"

"Awesome, where did you want to go?" I ask, holding my gear all in one hand so I can point with the other.

"Um, I was supposed to be at Suki Marketplace, but I must've took a wrong turn," the boy says with a nervous laugh. "It's only my second time going there, and, um…"

"Hey, no problem, you're not that far off," I say with a smile. "Suki is pretty close to here, but not as close as a lot of people think. See that old surfboard sticking there?" I point out the landmark. "Turn into the small street to the left of there and keep walking down it. In a few minutes you'll see a sushi stall called Maguro, and there are signs from there on how to get to Suki."

"Thanks!" the boy chirps, turning to run off. He stops himself, however, and turns back to me. "Hey, aren't you Catalina Asbury? The chosen volunteer?"

 _Okay, Academy Mode,_ I think immediately as I quickly switch off my cheerful smiley side and put on a no-nonsense, confident smirk.

"Yes, and I'm more than ready to not let anything stand in the way of my Victory this year," I say, hoping that that was convincing. "You're talking to the Victor of the 44th Games here."

"Whoa," the boy says, his eyes wide. "I'll bet you'll use the coolest weapon."

"I wouldn't say the spear is as cool as other weapons, but it gets the job done," I say. I notice myself starting to smile and wanting to crack a joke, but I stop myself before I show too much softness. "Speaking of, I'm going to the Academy to train right now. Run along, kid."

 _Okay, that was way too harsh,_ I think as I try not to smile too much at the boy - a big smile would be too much of a conciliatory sign - but before I can think that much about it the boy has nodded and skipped off in the direction of Suki Market. I sigh, happy that I no longer have to pretend to be all enthusiastic about the Games and killing and all that. I'm about to wave at Arielle and Dory, who are sitting at our spot on the beach, when I realize something.

 _Father will want me to actually go to the Academy right now,_ I think, frowning as I gaze in the direction of the Academy. _When I volunteer later today I will have to let the kind part of myself go anyways, so maybe I should really get into Academy Mode._

I'd much rather continue hanging out at the beach, but I've been chosen to volunteer for this year and I'm not going to back out. If the Captains have faith in me to bring home the win I'm not going to let them down. Besides, my dad has wanted me to volunteer for the Games forever, and he'd be very disappointed in me if I didn't go through with it. And in the end, even though I've hated Academy training since I started as a kid, I'd be disappointed in myself if I didn't volunteer. My father is right, after all, that one has to be tough and ruthless in a country like Panem.

 _I can keep hanging out with Arielle and Dory at the Academy, and Melinda's there right now so we might as well meet up with her,_ I think.

My friend Melinda is almost always at the Academy. She's a competitive and hardcore overachiever, currently sitting in fourth place, but she's sixteen and, unlike me, still has a few chances to be chosen. I briefly think about backing out at the last minute, but I shake my head because if I didn't volunteer this year I'd never hear the end of it. I'm eighteen and this is my last chance.

"Hey guys," I call, waving at and approaching Arielle and Dory. "I think I'd better go to the Academy. We can keep talking on the way there."

* * *

 **Mako Bailey, age 17  
** District 4 Male

Fighting with axes is pretty weird in comparison to using swords or tridents, but if I want to win the Hunger Games and be the best I can ever be, I'm going to have to be well-versed in all sorts of weapons. Which is why my bisexual friend and I are both using axes in our spar.

"Dude, this isn't bad," Okuna says as he swings and I step out of the way. "I think I'll end up being an axe user when it's my turn to volunteer."

"Can I axe you a question?" I say with a grin as I counterattack.

"What the fuck man, I thought you were too cool for puns," Okuna says. "But what?"

"Why?" I say.

"Why what?"

"Why are you picking the axe?" I ask lightly, bringing my fake weapon down onto Okuna's shoulder. He grimaces and drops his axe. He holds up the Academy's sign of surrender with his hand, and I smirk, happy that I've won again.

"Good game," I say, holding out my hand for Okuna to shake. He shakes it but doesn't answer my question, so I press on.

"I mean, why would you be an axe user when you can be like me and master _all_ the weapons?" I say. I wave at Carabao, Zinnia, and Rivvina, our friends who have been watching us spar. "What do you think, guys? Should Okuna be an axe user or is he better than that?"

"Dude, what do you have against axes?" Carabao says with a laugh. "I think you rock axes, Okuna. Just because it's a District 7 weapon doesn't mean that we can't use it as Careers." He smiles at Okuna, who meets his gaze and smiles back. I feel discomfort prickling in my spine and cough.

"Have a gay old time, you two," I say with a chuckle.

"Hey, Mako, you should let that go," Zinnia says as the mood changes. "Just because Phineas and Nemo are gay and they beat you one time doesn't mean you should let that get to you."

"Dude, I don't hate gay people man," I say. "But, like, I'm still laughing about how Phineas broke his leg. I mean, I would've still beat him to volunteer if he hadn't, but dude."

"Are you ready for later today?" Rivvina asks, clearly trying to change the subject. I grin at her, glad that she's diffused the tension.

"Hell yeah I am," I say, taking a few practice swings of my axe. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm only the best."

"That's more like the Mako I know," Okuna says, smiling. "You're pretty talkative today, I thought you'd be all focused on training like you are on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays."

"Dude, the whole Games schedule is totally throwing off my week," I say with a laugh, "but it's not a problem. I got used to the idea of the Games being the first thing on my priorities _long_ ago."

For years now I've had a pretty good schedule for my life that allows me to be the best I can possibly be while also having some time to let loose. Fridays and Saturdays are spent at sea; Sundays are spent resting for myself; Mondays are for school; on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays I train at the Academy. The village where I live, Herring, is a bit isolated from the main Academy so I had to come up with that schedule and stay overnight at the Academy a lot so that I could balance my time.

So far, I'd say that my schedule has worked. I've been chosen to volunteer for the Games this year, which means I'm on my way to truly being the best. I've been seen as the Golden Child of Herring ever since I was a kid, and I've had a few doubts throughout the years about whether I was truly the best, but I managed to prove myself by being selected by the Captains to volunteer. Now I just need to win the Games and I'll be the best I can ever be.

"Let's keep sparring," Okuna says, picking up his axe again. "You're going to kick ass this year but I'm going to be the volunteer next year."

"Yeah," I say, smirking at Okuna and getting into position. "I'm going to kick ass this year."

* * *

 **Venti Grande, age 44  
** District 4 Escort

There's a heaviness in the air today in District 4. Four isn't as enthusiastic as One and Two about the Games, but Reaping Days are still usually festive affairs, unlike in District 6, where I was stationed until two years ago. Today is different in a strange way - as I sit on the stage and bounce my leg nervously, I can tell that the crowd is trying to act normal when things are far from it.

I don't blame anyone, though. Sayori Mizushima hanged herself just a month ago.

I open my mouth to say something to Perch Covey and Isla Ramirez, the two mentors for this year, and decide against it. Sayori was going to mentor alongside P.C., but after she killed herself - well, apparently at least - P.C. requested that Isla, Victor of the 26th Games and the Academy Admiral of District 4, mentor alongside him. Isla, who is actively involved in many things, is very different from P.C. but I trust P.C.'s choice. Sayori was P.C.'s closest friend among the Four Victors, but he is quite close to Isla as well, with Isla serving as a meddlesome but wise mentor figure.

 _We need someone with experience to guide us through this tough time,_ I think as I watch the Square fill up with people. _Isla's definitely experienced. As for me, I hope I'm experienced enough._

Normally I'm what people describe as a flamboyant man who doesn't shut up, but even I understand how to act after tragedy. I'm still embracing my usual coffee aesthetic this year, but rather than macchiato or mocha I'm black coffee, which I think fits recent happenings. I'm wearing white dress pants and a black long-sleeved collared shirt, and less green accessories than normal.

My outfit is far less ornamental than what I'm used to, but as an escort it's my job to make the people I work with comfortable.

Isla and P.C. are both quiet as the Square fills up with people. The silence seems natural and fitting to them, but I've never liked quietness. I feel very awkward and once again I'm about to say something but then I stop.

"I could have prevented it," P.C. murmurs, and Isla and I turn to look at him since he's broken the silence. "I could've done more for her."

"P.C., please don't blame yourself," Isla says in her characteristic gruff-sounding voice, but her gaze is gentle as she squeezes P.C.'s hand reassuringly. "I miss Sayori too. We all do. But all we can do now is to focus on the present and try to get one of our tributes home."

"You're right," P.C. sighs. "I can't let my grief get in the way of my job."

"You're very dedicated to still be doing this after Sayori - after what happened," Isla says.

"I wouldn't say dedicated, I just want to see my friends from the Literature Club," P.C. says with a sad smile. "Sayori was always so passionate about the club. The five - four of us - we're all going through our loss together and I want to be there for everyone."

"P.C., you'd better tell me if you want to take a break," Isla says forcefully. "There's no way I'm letting you mentor if doing that hurts you."

"I don't even think I need to mentor much, Mako knows pretty much all he needs," P.C. says, chuckling sadly. "But thanks for the offer." He turns to me. "Venti, I know it's probably pretty awkward for you, but I really hope you can still work with us and get the job done."

"Don't worry," I say, trying my best to be gentle and reassuring rather than loud and proud. "I'll try my best for you and our tributes this year. Cross my heart. I'm the escort after all."

"Venti, how many coffee puns are you going to make this year?" Isla asks.

"Didn't we agree on exactly one?" I say, surprised at the change in the conversation's direction. "I understand if you feel it's not appropriate, but-"

"One will be just right," Isla says with a sad smile. "I was just checking with you in case you decided something else at the last minute."

"I definitely wouldn't do something like that this year, I swear," I say. "You can count on me to do whatever I need to do to keep things running as smoothly as possible."

"Same goes for me," P.C. says forcefully, and we all nod.

The Reaping starts as Mayor Blume walks onto the stage and the Square quiets down. When it's my turn to proceed with the event, I get up and walk to the microphone without the usual spring in my step, but I still smile and wave at the crowd. I adjust the microphone to account for my tall height and tap it to test it before I begin.

"Welcome, District 4, to the Reapings for the 44th Annual Hunger Games," I say, my voice wavering as I get used to not being as bombastic this year as most other years. "I'm your escort, Venti Grande, and I am _matcha_ looking forward to meeting our tributes this year. We'll start with the girls and then move on to the boys."

Normally I joke around a bit before starting the Reaping and make more than one coffee pun. Not this year, though. I still included one coffee pun because some people would still expect me to be me, but one is enough, as P.C., Isla, and I agreed upon.

"Will Azula Rivers please come to the stage!" I call out, reading the name from the slip.

"I volunteer as tribute!" a voice calls out in response. I smile as there is movement among the eighteen-year-old girls in the Square and Catalina Asbury, the chosen female volunteer for this year, steps forward. Getting to know a bit about the tributes I'll be working with beforehand is one of the best things about escorting for a Career District, and I think the Captains made a decent choice. I'll have to work with Catalina on mental preparation, though. She's strong but I've always thought she was a bit too compassionate for the Games.

"What's your name?" I ask Catalina once she's situated on the stage. I know, of course, but the people watching back home don't.

"Catalina Asbury," the volunteer says with a smile.

"And would you like to say anything to the audience?" I ask.

"Um, not really!" Catalina responds, her friendly smile not wavering. "I just don't have much to say."

"Fair, fair," I say, shaking Catalina's hand. I notice that her handshake is surprisingly firm for such a pleasant girl.

"Now, I'm sure you all want to meet our boy," I say when the applause for Catalina dies down. I walk over to the boys' Reaping Bowl and pick out a name, knowing that it won't matter because Mako Bailey will volunteer.

"Caspian Skylar!" I exclaim.

"I volunteer!" a loud voice yells from the seventeen-year-olds. Mako Bailey strides forward boldly, his hands clenched into fists and a confident smirk on his face.

"I'm Mako Bailey," Mako declares once he's on the stage, "and I will come home!"

The crowd cheers as I shake Mako's hand and clap the boy on the back. I study Mako and Catalina carefully. Mako is a bit too confident and Catalina is a bit too unconfident, but I think both are well-trained and have a very good chance at bringing home the victory to District 4.

"District 4," I say, still feeling some heaviness in the air but hoping to move past it, "your tributes for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, Mako Bailey and Catalina Asbury!"

* * *

 **Catalina Asbury, age 18  
** District 4 Female

I'm already regretting doing this. But I can't let that show. My father has a disapproving look on his face as I hug my mother in the Goodbye Room.

"I'll miss you, my dear," my mother says softly, kissing me on the cheek. "But I believe in you, Catalina."

"I love you, Mom," I murmur, burying my face in her shoulder.

"Catalina, you can't show this softness in the Games," my father says firmly as he rests a harsh hand on my shoulder. "You have to play dirty to get anywhere in this world."

"Trytonn, dear," my mother says, letting me go and facing Father with a sad smile, "I think you should go easy on our Catalina. I know you love her as much as I do, but-"

"That's the thing," Father huffs, giving me a quick hug. My eyes widen with surprise because he rarely shows affection like this, but it's a good thing.

"I just want the best for Catalina and the best is for her to toughen up and grow up quickly," Father says, his voice hardening as he frowns at Mom. "You know this, Galena. Training, volunteering, and winning will be the best way for this to happen."

"Well, I suppose we've reached the point where there's no use regretting the past," Mom sighs, reaching forward to give me another hug but stopping herself. "Just do your best, Catalina. You've trained so much for this, and you're strong enough to come home."

"I'll definitely do my very best, Mom," I say with a rare assuredness in my voice. "Mom, Father, you can both know that I'll do my best to survive the Games."

That much is true, at least. It's definitely too late to back out now.

But can I survive the Games when I'm absolutely horrified by the idea of me taking a life?

* * *

 **Mako Bailey, age 17  
** District 4 Male

I sit back down on the sofa and stretch out as the door to the Goodbye Room closes behind Okuna, Carabao, Zinnia, and Rivvina. I'm confident that I can come home and keep hanging out with my friends, who are the coolest people ever. And if Okuna is really selected to volunteer next year, the two of us will be living next door to each other in the Victor's Village.

 _That actually wouldn't be that great,_ I realize as I stretch. _He might die, and if he wins I might not be considered the best anymore._

I don't have any doubts that I can win these Games, but when I get back maybe I should talk Okuna out of volunteering next year. The one thing I don't want is someone challenging me for my title of the best, even after I'm a Victor. At least Okuna being next year's selected volunteer would be better than Nemo Catamaran getting chosen, though. I'm still a little mad at that kid for beating me in such a humiliating fashion all those years ago, but at least that defeat got me to train more seriously.

 _And Phineas Allbright is eighteen so he won't have a chance next year,_ I think with a smirk, satisfied about how he broke his leg and lost his chance at Victory. I got my revenge on him last year but I'm still happy that he won't be challenging me any time soon.

 _There may be chosen volunteers and Victors after me,_ I realize, _but that doesn't mean I won't be the best. After I win I'll continue with my routine and continue to improve myself._

The door to the Goodbye Room is flung open, and my family hurries in. Dad wears a big smile on his face, and Junpei, my older brother, rushes over and claps me on the shoulder.

"You did it, Mako," Junpei says with his characteristic stoicness, but I can tell that he's happy for me. "That's the younger brother I'm proud of."

"I know you can keep your head on your shoulders and win the Games," Dad says as he sits down. "Just never stop striving to be the best."

"I won't let you down, guys," I say firmly, nodding. "I'll put everything I learned to the test and come home a Victor."

My family continue giving me words of encouragement until it's time for them to leave. I'm not expecting any more visitors, so I jog around the room, raring to go. I'm surprised when the door opens and my mother walks in.

"Oh, hi Mom," I say awkwardly, stopping my jogging to face her. "Haven't seen you in a while. How's life? With your wife?" I laugh at my unintentional rhyme.

"Good, the kids are good too," Mom says with a smile. I smile back, but I can't help but wonder why my mother divorced my dad and married a woman who already had two kids. My parents have both told me that they thought they were going nowhere, but I wonder how I would've turned out if Dad and Mom had stayed together.

"Come to see me off before I win?" I ask, puffing out my chest proudly.

"Of course, you always seem to be running around the District busy with something but I'm glad that you're improving yourself," Mom says, patting me on the shoulder. "Look out for yourself, okay? I know you can win these Games but I as your mother do worry about you."

"Hey, I'll do whatever I can to be Victor so you don't have to worry," I say with a smile.

I absolutely mean every word.

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks** _ **Smiley**_ **for submitting Catalina, our District 4 Female, and many thanks to** _ **AkaneOfFan**_ **for submitting Mako, our District 4 Male! What do you think of Catalina, Mako, and Venti? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!**

 **I'd like to make a disclaimer about Mako. His discomfort around gay people and his referring to Okuna as his "bisexual friend" is part of his character but not something I condone.**

 **I'll see you all hopefully sooner rather than later in District 8!**


	15. Goodbye

**Monika Mendoza, age 35**  
President of the Literature Club

* * *

Something's wrong. I can feel it.

The SYOT isn't going the way I was sure it was going to go. No... don't tell me it's abandoned. It's abandoned, isn't it?

But it must be. That's the only explanation for why I have my POV already, before the tributes have even all been Reaped.

Hello? Can you hear me?

Hi. I guess I have some explaining to do.

I was the one who killed Sayori. I was able to get away with it and frame it as a suicide because, as the only character in this story who knows that she's in a fanfiction, I have powers and abilities that no one else does.

But even with all my powers, there was one thing I wanted that I didn't have: a POV.

You see, for a while now I've been aware that I am a non-POV character in a Hunger Games SYOT fanfiction. Perch Covey, Sayori Mizushima, Yuri Coulson, Natsuki Barkley, and I were the subplot characters, and everyone in the Literature Club but me got POVs.

And it was so unfair.

Why should I, the only one who knows that she's in a story, be the one subplot character to not get a POV? Why was it that they could project their thoughts to the real world while not even knowing that they were in a story, when I knew that I was in a story but had no way to communicate with the real world?

I was so sad and lonely, knowing that my friends weren't even real. But I knew that there were real people out there, people reading my story. And I figured that maybe I _could_ get a POV, which would let me communicate with the real world.

I realized that for me to get a POV, every other subplot character would have to die.

It made sense, logically. P.C., Sayori, Yuri, and Natsuki were subplot characters alongside me, and they had POVs when I didn't. If they all died, I'd be the only subplot character left, so I'd get my POV.

If I got my POV, I'd finally be able to talk to the real world. That was the one thing I wanted most.

Sayori, Yuri, Natsuki, and P.C. could all die. They weren't real, anyways - they were just constructs, characters in a Hunger Games SYOT fanfiction. I could kill them all, get my POV, and finally communicate with the real world.

That's why I killed Sayori. I framed it as suicide so no one would get suspicious. And I was going to kill Yuri, Natsuki, and P.C. as well so I could get my POV.

Now, however, it appears that I already have my POV when Yuri, Natsuki, and P.C. aren't dead. Which can only mean that the Hunger Games SYOT I'm in is discontinued. It has to be. Otherwise, P.C., Natsuki, and Yuri would continue getting POVs when I wouldn't.

I don't know how I feel. On the one hand, I'm absolutely ecstatic that I have a POV and can talk to you, dear readers. But on the other hand…

If this story is discontinued, what's going to happen to me?

* * *

 **A/N: So I know this is kinda metaphysical and supernatural, but such is the nature of this SYOT's inspiration, the visual novel _Doki Doki Literature Club!_**

 **Feel free to resubmit your tributes. Thank you all for your lovely characters and support.**


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